#the most powerful waitress

[eternalchaoschocolaterain]

The Most Powerful Waitress

Last one!

Chapter one: School's out

Chapter two: I'd hire me

Chapter three: No cure for me

Chapter four: Rinse and repeat

Chapter five: Patience

Chapter six: I don't know

@whatwouldvalerydo

No one knows

The next day Merula went back to Hogsmeade, to Zonko’s. Bilton did not look happy to see her when she entered the store and she held up her hands.

‘I want to apologize.’

His expression became milder. ‘I see. Go ahead.’

She fidgeted with the zipper on her leather jacket. Fuck, she hated apologizing, but it had to be done if she ever wanted to show her face her again. Which she did. ‘I’m sorry for storming out of the store yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that. I let my emotions get the best of me and I’m sorry for that.’

Bilton smiled. ‘I accept your apology, but I will never let you work here again.’

‘That’s fair.’

They said an awkward goodbye and Merula exhaled deeply when she stood outside. With that out of the way she could go back home, but she wanted to pick up a drink for Quinn. To celebrate her closing her first case. Not feeling comfortable going back to the Three Broomsticks, she went to Hog’s Head. Aberforth gave her a curious look when she got up to the bar.

‘Come to look for a job?’

Word travelled way too fast here. Merula crossed her arms. ‘No, I want some herbal liqueur.’ She’d decided Quinn was right, she didn’t have to work. Why not use her position to grant herself a break to think things over?

‘That’s too bad. But let me know if you change your mind. I heard about what happened with Rosmerta and I think you’d do well here.’

Stunned, Merula stared at him. Did he just offer her a job knowing what happened this week? Why would anyone want to offer her a job after this week? Not that it mattered. She’d do nothing for now. Absolutely nothing work-related that was.

Which is what she did the following days. She duelled with Quinn, went to the Dueling Club, practiced duelling at home, went to the theatre, watched the stars, studied new spells, read. Her days were full, although she spent most of the time by herself. With Ismelda abroad, Quinn was the only person she had actual conversations with and she did have a job.

As the days turned into weeks she started to get restless. Doing whatever she wanted was nice and all, but it got her nowhere. Writing letters to Ismelda got harder by the day.

I went duelling, again. Sat in the garden, again. Watched another play. Read another book.

Blah, blah, blah. There was nothing to it. Nothing she could be proud of, nothing to show off with. Sure she mastered some new spells and was a better dueller than ever, but who cared if she had no goal with it? She didn’t want to become a professional dueller. Professional duellers barely had a life outside of training and matches and she didn’t want to be consumed by anything ever again. Her obsession with the Vaults had almost cost her everything. There was no way she would risk that again. No, she needed something where she could excel, but where she could still have a live. Maybe even make a new friend. It’d be nice to have someone else but Quinn to talk to.

Frustration boiled up again. How had she made it to 18 without knowing what she wanted?! After finding the Cursed Vaults and defeating R this was supposed to be the easy part! She would get to live now and what did she do? Hang around doing whatever came to mind. Anything to keep the growing restlessness a bay. Everyone else was doing great. Even Quinn seemed to have settled in. They all had some reason to get up, some purpose. She had nothing.

Aberforth’s offer kept playing through her mind and she kept wondering what he wanted from her. After another day doing the same things by herself, she went to Hog’s Head. At the very least to stop the same questions from running through her mind.

The one-room inn looked grimy as ever and smelled like goats, which made her wonder if Aberforth was some secret goat breeder. There was no reason for this grimy inn to smell like goats otherwise. Aberforth stood behind the bar cleaning a goblet with his hands and a dirty rag instead of his wand, which explained why it didn’t get any cleaner.

‘Is the job still there?’

Aberforth stopped rubbing the goblet and looked up at her. ‘Sure.’

‘What kind of job would it be? I’m not really a server.’

‘I heard,’ he chuckled, ‘but I could use some help around here. I need a day off too every once in a while, but the patrons can be a lot. Not everyone can handle them. I think you could.’

‘So you do want me to be a server.’

‘I want you to make sure they pay before they leave and take any fights outside.’

She pondered the offer. It would give her something to do, some purpose, but at what cost? Working in this goat pen wasn’t exactly the dream job. On the other hand, she could do it. No one would leave without paying on her watch. Or dare to make a mess. She could excel in a small way, until she knew what she wanted. At worst she would get fired and at this point she didn’t know if she cared anymore.

‘Alright, but I don’t want to work every weekend.’ That would defeat the whole ‘having a life outside of work’ thing.

‘Fine,’ Aberforth shrugged. ‘Can you start tomorrow afternoon?’

‘Sure.’

The place didn’t look any better the next day. Or smell any better. She’d dressed for the occasion, with an old band shirt, old jeans and boots that were easily cleaned with a spell. Aberforth stood behind the bar again and he greeted her with a nod. She joined him and stared into the room. There were a few people, some hunched over the table whispering. Like they had never heard of the sound bubble charm. All of them had drinks, some had food.

‘Now what?’

‘We watch and make sure they don’t burn this place down.’

‘Why not? The place can’t get any worse.’

It slipped out before she could stop herself and she mentally prepared to be chastised, but Aberforth chuckled. Feeling a bit more relaxed she asked him about the place and before she knew it, they were chatting about the history of Hogsmeade.

As the afternoon turned into the evening the patrons got a bit rowdy and a fight did break out. A man and a woman rose from their seats, shouting, wands drawn. Aberforth nudged her to show him how she’d handle it. She stepped up to them, both were about two heads taller than her, and yelled.

‘Outside, both of you!’ They looked down at her for a moment. The man raised his eyebrow, as if to challenge her, and Merula drew her wand. ‘I said to take it outside.’

They laughed and she hit them with a jinx she’d taught herself a while ago for duelling. It pinned their arms behind their back. Then she hit them with in the back a few times, pushing them towards the door, until they left. They complained and spluttered, but couldn’t get their arms out of the grip she had on them. Other patrons pointed and laughed at them. Once they were outside, Merula went back to Aberforth.

‘Something like that?’

‘Something like that,’ he smirked.

She had to come between two more fights that evening and served a few drinks. Not that bad for a first night. The following days she broke up some more fights, scolded patrons for making messes and didn’t clean anything herself. For some reason the patrons liked her attitude and Aberforth seemed happy with her. She didn’t know what to think herself. The job itself was okay-ish, but she worked at Hog’s Head for Salazar’s sake! Way beneath a witch of her powers. She itched to do better, but still had no answer as to what she wanted.

On Friday Quinn brought over a group of her friends. She’d asked if she wanted to join and suggested coming to Hog’s Head when Merula said she couldn’t. Seeing them wouldn’t be the worst, so she’d shrugged. Aberforth would like the extra money and she supposed she could clean some goblets for the occasion. One for Quinn at least.

Tonks and Tulip were the first to arrive, claiming a large table. Tulip gave Merula a questioning look when she saw her standing behind the bar, but she ignored it. She’d realise soon enough. Shortly after Quinn came in, with Haywood and Egwu in tow. She grinned at her and waved and Merula returned the sentiment with a small smile.

‘Friends of yours?’ Aberforth asked.

Merula hummed a confirmation. Something like that.

‘Go join them, make sure they pay. We don’t do personal favours here.’

She let out a snort. Like that’s the reason, but she appreciated him acting like he didn’t do her a favour. The seat next to Quinn was still free and she took it. Under the table she gave her hand a squeeze.

‘You work here now?’ Haywood asked.

‘I’m not taking your order if that’s what you’re asking. You can go up to the bar and get it yourself. I’m not your servant.’

Tonks burst out laughing and Haywood turned red. ‘That’s not-’

‘We were talking about what we’ve all been up to.’ Tulip cut in.

She went on to explain how she and her toad Dennis were on an all-salmon diet?! Nothing but salmon, which sounded gross even to a fish lover like Merula. Haywood chimed in, talking about her wonderful, wonderful job. She had the best job ever. She was learning so many new things as apothecary in training. Of course, Tonks was doing great too, living her dream of becoming an auror. Training under none other than her hero, Mad-Eye Moody. Why that man was anyone’s hero was beyond Merula. She’d met him a few times dealing with R and if you asked her, he was unhinged. An accident waiting to happen. Egwu was happy working at Gladrags and working on his own fashion line in his free time. Quinn gushed about her co-workers, who were all just the nicest of the nicest. What lives they lived, no one questioned anything, had any trouble, or had gotten fired. No. Everything was perfect.

‘Well, congratulations to everyone for doing sooo well in life,’ Merula spat, unable to keep her frustrations to herself any longer. ‘Looks like everything is perfect for you all.’ The urge to get up and stomp off was as strong as ever, but she managed to hold back. She didn’t want a repeat from last time.

For a moment they all stared at her, then Egwu scowled.

‘I wish! I missed this month’s rent because I found the perfect fabric and forgot how much I had left. Making your own fashion line is expensive!’

‘But you’ve always made clothes. How did you not know it would be expensive?’ Merula asked. Besides, he knew how to calculate, right? That was just dumb.

‘I never had to pay rent and food and everything else on top of it!’

‘Tell me about it,’ Tonks said, ‘I hate paying rent. Why do I have to pay some rich arsehole for the right to have a roof over my head?’

Tulip made a face. ‘I wish I could afford rent. My experiments are driving my parents mad and I kind of destroyed the couch the other day. After creating toxic fumes in my bedroom.’

‘At least you get to do what you love,’ Quinn said. ‘I keep getting sent out to do things alone and my boss hates me. And he’s threatening to fire me if I don’t get my apparition license soon.’ Merula raised her eyebrows at her. This was news for her too. ‘He told me today.’

‘Ah fuck, I have to do that too!’ Tonks hair flashed blue and she put her face in her hands. ‘And if I keep failing stealth, I’ll never become an auror, but I can’t help that I keep knocking things over!’

Everyone focused on Haywood now, who had a sheepish look on her face. ‘I don’t want to be mean, but my roommate is, kind of a bit untidy. And she keeps using my stuff. I wouldn’t mind if she asked of course! But she doesn’t and when I find them, they’re dirty. I thought having a roommate would be fun, like living in the dorms had been, but it’s not.’ They all nodded and Merula looked at them, stunned by their confessions. ‘I thought I had everything figured out after graduating, but there’s so much I don’t know.’

‘It’s like they forgot to teach us how to live,’ Egwu said with an exasperated sigh. ‘I’m questioning everything I’ve learned.’

‘Just look at us! Some of Hogwarts best and brightest and we’re all struggling!’ Tonks said, her hair still blue.

‘It’s not just us,’ Haywood sighed. ‘I know Barnaby has been feeling extremely homesick for Hogwarts, McNully can’t grow in his job because he has issues networking.’ Merula sniggered. Of course he did. That’s what you got when you turned everything and everyone around you into statistics. ‘and Alanza hasn’t even found a place to live yet.’

‘Maybe they did forget to teach us some things at Hogwarts,’ Quinn pondered.

The rest nodded and named more things they wished they’d learned. Merula listened in awe. It wasn’t just her, they were all struggling. And judging by the things the others were saying she was already doing better than the lot of them. No roommate issues, no budget issues and currently, no work issues. Aberforth told her he wanted her to run the inn by herself for an afternoon coming week, see how it would go. He trusted her. Even if she didn’t want to work in this goat pen forever, it was far from the worst job she had in the past few weeks.

The next couple of days the conversation kept repeating itself in her mind. Maybe life after Hogwarts wasn’t the easy part, maybe they needed to learn that too. If so, she had already shown great improvement, unlike the others. She’d found a job that let her be herself and it didn’t look like she’d be fired anytime soon. Sure she still had no idea what she wanted, but she’d figure it out. She’d show herself some patience this time. For now she would stay at Hog’s Head and entertain herself by yelling at people. Life after Hogwarts would only get better, she’d make sure of it.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

hooray for this delightful recording portraits collage in the 17 again musical booklet

[gutsby]

Easy to Please

Pairing: Sleazy Landlord!Joel x Reader

Summary: Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Dubcon à la power imbalance / sex for money. Infidelity. Pervy!Joel. Talks of abuse. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: This fic was loosely inspired by my three favorite songs about female adultery—‘Thinkin’ Bout Cheatin’ by Mae Estes, ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by The Eagles, and ‘Cheatin’ Songs’ by Midland. No, I don’t support infidelity. Yes, it makes for fun fiction.

Word count: 3.1k

You hate the face he makes when he cums.

You hate the way he tastes when he’s done.

You hate the grit and the heft of the man, every lone hair that sprouts silver from his chest, and the way he pats the open space beside him in bed after you roll away.

‘Never seen a girl so goddamn allergic to cuddling!’

What makes his observation worse is that you know you’re hating it more and more with every passing day.

Today you have seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson tucked into your purse. You walk with a sluggish gait, knowing you’re $310 short of making this month’s rent and last. But you go on anyway. It’s not like Joel can’t see you from where he’s seated on the porch.

The pleasantries you exchange are short. By now, you have only to breeze past him in his lawn chair and say, ‘I can’t stay long,’ and he knows the rest. He grabs his six-pack, then his Pall Malls, and asks after you all the same.

“How’s the wrist?” he says.

You sprained it over the weekend. You aren’t sure how he heard. At any rate, you ignore the question and set your bag down on the counter before going to the fridge. You deflect with a question of your own—what the hell happened to the lemonade? He had a full jug last week.

“Got thirsty,” Joel answers, shrugging.

You’re always thirsty, you tell him, and you eye the case of Heineken that he’s placed by your purse. You don’t need to see his face to feel the smile starting to form.

“Don’t I know it,” he says. Insinuating.

You’d hit him over the head if you’d been able to reach. He’s still smiling when your shoulder checks his—closer to his elbow, from the feel of it—and when you leave the kitchen, he leaves too. He trails behind you with an ease that says this is the sixth time this has happened since August, and you’re hardly a week out from Halloween.

It’s not just rent you need to pay; it’s other things. Transmission in your truck’s gone to shit. Phone’s been on the fritz since you dropped it in the tub. Talking heads on TV say the country’s on track to get hit with another recession, and from the way your boss has been slashing your hours in half, you think they may be right. The crack in your bathroom window was tiny last week. Today it’s gone, because your husband put his fist through the thing on Sunday. You patched the hole with duct tape.

Joel’s covering the cost for the pane to be replaced, but that’s because he has to. He’s your landlord—proud owner of the Delta Commons trailer park since ‘97—and that’s what landlords do. Everything else is yours to pay.

You’re a part-time student, part-time waitress, and a full-time caretaker for your ailing spouse, or so you call him. Joel knows Stetson’s not sick, just perennially unemployed and drunk. You pay for most things, and it’s rarely enough to cover your rent. Stetson doesn’t care.

And that’s where Joel comes in.

No pun intended, but in his mind, there’s really no nicer way to say it: you fuck his brains out to make up for the shortfall in rent. You blow him before work to make sure your husband and you will have enough to eat that week. You bite the warm, freckled skin between his shoulder and his neck while you ride him, because you know that gesture will get you a little extra cash when you leave. You smile after swallowing him, and Joel knows that it tastes like shit. You’ve gotten good at faking it lately.

What he hopes isn’t totally fabricated is the way you call him big. Strong. Handsome. So stupidly well-endowed that you have to wince for the first few seconds when you sit on it, and go slow when he takes you from behind

“O-ow!” you whine presently.

His dick isn’t even in you yet. You just stubbed your toe on the edge of his dresser on your way to the bathroom.

“You alright?”

“Fuck me!”

I will, he thinks.

“Want me to get an ice—”

“Let go-OW! FUCK!”

Joel barely even touched your wrist and you were flinching away with a brand new pain. You rub it, almost defensively, then pin him with an icy glare. Nice going.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Now he’ll be lucky if he can swing a half-hearted handy from the one that isn’t hurt. That’s how mad you look.

You turn your body away, and for a second, Joel assumes that his fate has been sealed: you’ll bumble over to the rug by his bed, toss a pillow on the floor, and assume what he already knows to be your least favorite position. You’ll kneel, and talk of migraines and your long, grueling day and in the end find an excuse not to use your mouth. That’ll be okay. But with the debts you owe him now, it also won’t be enough, and Joel will have to ask you back again. He hates sounding needy, but baby, deal’s a deal.

Luckily you don’t give him the chance to use that line. Much to his surprise, you get on the bed. You lie down. You seem to take a little more care settling in this time, but you take off your clothes. It’s a lime green tank top and some ratty jean skirt, but it’s enough to tempt him.

And not just tempt, but oblige him to accept, unblinking. He crawls over the bed to get to you, and he finds that his spit’s filling his mouth a little quicker. His hands are starting to shake as they slide over the duvet, and the tree trunks he once called his legs are runny, like eggs.

He has to remind himself, bluntly, of your last name, the shiny ring on your hand, your husband’s name, your—

“Age—what’d you say your age was again?” Joel asks.

You look confused for a second, but you tell him.

“Twenty-one.”

Way too fucking young to have gotten hitched three years ago. But then he remembers this is Leakey, Texas, and your family hasn’t strayed more than ten miles from the center of town in four generations. You told him that.

“I thought you said twenty,” Joel says, a little uneasy.

“I did. Up until this past Sunday I was.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Happy birthday.”

You blink.

“You gonna take your pants off or what?”

And he does. Maybe embarrassed at first, but then the jeans come off, and his boxers go next, and without so much as a word or a breath, his worries are sliding away like water off his back. Like his clothes now peeling off.

Like your smile growing thin at the sight of him half-stripped on the bed in front of you. Joel doesn’t flatter himself to think he’s even half as handsome as he was in his youth, but he knows he has his draws. What endears him to you today is, unfortunately, his wallet. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be convinced to like him more.

More than Stetson, he thinks without humor.

Dumb son of a bitch can’t tell his ass from his elbow and yet he’s won himself you, living it up these last three y—

“Oh.”

He sounds like an owl now. His clothes are off, and you’re rubbing him, pumping him gently in your hand, which you were so kind to make wet with your saliva. It even sounds better than his, the way it squelches with every flick. Joel can only say so much in strangled breaths.

He tries anyway:

“Feel like a dream, sweet pea.”

Sweet pea.

Your pace quickens. Joel swears he can see the corners of your lips twitch, but then he thinks you’re just wincing. You move down to the floor beside the bed. Kneel almost politely while you nestle yourself between his parted legs

Your mouth is warm. It’s always warm. Joel wouldn’t expect a girl’s tongue to greet his dick like ice, but yours is always heated to a thousand degrees, it feels like. He enjoys the sting. Your lips envelop his big, leaking tip, and he swears he can stay like this forever—in you.

On you, too. He’s got his palm resting flat on your head, and he doesn’t mean to, but he pushes. He bunches your hair in a fist and drags your face to make you swallow.

Mean old man, you must be saying in your head when he stuffs your mouth full. Makes your eyes prick with tears.

Sweet girl. My sweet pea, he thinks, affectionately, and continues to rub your scalp. He holds your teary gaze.

And then you’re moving up. Down. Coating his length with shiny spit and tiny whimpers as your lips move gently back and forth, again and again. Joel’s grip tightens in your hair, and he begs for more. More.

“More,” he orders, jaw clenched, “Fit a little more’a me.”

From where you’re kneeling below, you look put off.

Then you pull off, and you wipe your wet chin.

“Chokin’ me,” you grumble, “‘S’too big.”

Normally, Joel loves to hear that.

Now, however, he’s sliding his touch to your chin and tilting your head up to him. Thumbing at the spit dribbling out on either side of your mouth and subsequently coaxing your lips further apart.

He slides back in, and you don’t fight it. You like it. Holding his gaze in a soft, docile look while your lips stretch deliciously around his shaft, you must love it. Every inch and every twinge of pleasure from the brush of his cock going in and out must be your favorite thing.

Joel hopes it is, anyway. He holds your face now, and your throat convulses involuntarily. You’re so pretty.

“Such a good, sweet girl, ain’t ya?” he presses, watching the coarse grey hairs at the base of him tickle your face.

You respond well to praise. You preen under those words, and try to nod. But his cock is so deep down your throat you end up choking again. Joel watches all of it smiling.

Petting your head and not pushing again. Grinning.

“Love my cock nice and stuffed in that pretty throat?”

You blink instead of nodding, but it’s more than enough.

“Love me deep?”

And the head of him sinks somewhere he’s never been. Your eyes are like two wide pools, and your lips leak everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, your neck.

Joel’s smearing it all with his palm and smiling so wide that he thinks he might pull a muscle. He pants heavily.

“Just what you’re made for. Just what you need.”

You look like you might agree. He keeps going.

“My fuckin’ mouth. My pretty, pretty mouth.”

He holds your face. He thinks he might cum.

“Ain’t a damn thing Stetson can do for this mouth, huh?”

And then he doesn’t. Joel barely blinks, and you’re already bucking your head out of his hold, mouth skittering away while the spit spills out. You’re practically drenched down to the chest when your face rears back. Your eyes are alight and no longer smiling when you grit:

“Don’t.”

Joel should’ve known better.

He’s hit a raw nerve, and now he really wishes he hadn’t.

It doesn’t stop there—but it doesn’t get better, either. Things progress in much the same way as they always have but with none of the need, or the warmth, of before. You climb back up and straddle him quick. Not meeting his eye, you just sit down, and slide down, and don’t wince at all. You don’t tell him that he’s big, and he doesn’t get the chance to even groan at the first influx of pleasure before you’re riding him. Bouncing and grinding your hips against his with all the passion of someone perusing the newspaper. You don’t whimper or moan.

Of course, Joel enjoys the feeling. He also wants someone to punch him in the throat for what he’s done.

“Hey, hon—” he starts, voice strained, “Hon, I’m sorr—”

“Shut up,” you snap.

Your movements hardly falter, and now your hand is seizing the headboard. You’re clenching him tight inside your wet, drooling cunt, and it’s obvious you’re trying to make him cum as quickly as possible. You swallow hard.

Joel isn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, his body is being flooded with pleasure, and on the other, he fears you may never do this with him again. Quickly fixing on the latter, he cups your face in one hand. It’s still wet.

His fingers smear the spit, and somehow you look even prettier. You keep grinding your body in desperate little fits above him, and really, you feel fucking amazing, but Joel is too focused on other thoughts. He squeezes you.

“Baby—” he tries again, but you shush him just as fast.

Your hips are moving viciously now. No matter how sore your legs might have been from a long day toiling away—just a couple hours before your shift at your next job, if Joel’s remembering correctly—you’re working him well. Doing him in. Fucking his brains out, but you aren’t his.

His fingers smear the spit even more. Never will be his.

“Sweet pea—”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

Now he can’t deny that his climax is close. But this isn’t how he wanted it to end—with you so incensed you can hardly look him in the eye. His hand rubs more, helpless.

And just when he’s seconds away from painting your insides white, losing it all to the pleasure, he sees it.

His wet, sticky touch has uncovered a residue.

Joel pulls his fingers away in a blink, and simultaneously, your eyes are fluttering closed. You’re focused now on climax; because of that, you don’t see what he sees.

What he’s stunned to find on his fingers: makeup.

Lots and lots of thick, heavy makeup on your cheeks. Concealer, he thinks he’s heard it called once or twice.

No matter the name, he quickly comes to see what it’s for. Just as you’re hitting your peak, squeezing the headboard behind him, and coming undone with a shockwave trembling all through your body, Joel pales.

The makeup that you applied so heavy tonight hides bruises. Black and blue and awful hues of greenish-purple too, your whole face, he sees, is engulfed.

He doesn’t speak. He won’t ask.

He won’t cum tonight, either.

He’ll finish something else.

You leave Joel’s trailer angry. You don’t say goodbye. The screen door screams shut behind you when you leave, and silently, you wonder why he didn’t cum. For once, you wish he had—and hadn’t said half of what he did.

Six hours pass like molasses, and by the end of it all—the close of your second shift—Stetson’s name still echoes in your head. The way Joel said it. It hums along the walls of your skull while you walk, and as you draw closer to home, you remember that strange and infuriating tone.

Then you remember your own less than two months ago:

Don’t talk to my husband. Don’t talk about my husband.

They were two simple rules, and Joel broke them both.

He must’ve defied the first when paying a visit to make repairs that week, and that’s when Stetson mentioned your hand: how you ‘slipped’ in the bath. Tripped and conveniently sprained your wrist the same night he almost tore your arm out of the socket for looking at a waiter a tad too long at dinner. You’d bet any sum of money Joel didn’t get to hear that part from Stetson when he came over to see about the window, though.

No, your twenty-first came and went without so much as a word about your wrist. Your arm. Your face—used to getting caked with concealer every third week or so.

You wince as you open the door. You walk slowly.

At first, you’re met with silence, and you sigh with relief. Then you hear it, and shortly drop your purse to the floor.

You all but fall down yourself at the sight: your husband doubled over across from you, in the kitchen. His head in his hands. You don’t need to see the face to know that it’s bleeding. Profusely. You tread ever slower into the room, thinking somehow, some way he’s going to blame this on you. And when he straightens a little and shows off the full, gruesome extent of his injuries, you blanch to think that it might be. His body’s been beaten to a pulp.

Your pulse hammers in your head so loud you can’t hear him groan. You see him, but you don’t really believe it.

And when Stetson reaches for you, you stagger back.

Your hands skim the counter, but your brain barely registers it. Your husband’s calling to you now, ‘Quit standin’ there lookin’ stupid, do somethin’, huh?!’ He’s screaming, and you’re not hearing it. Barely feeling like a sentient person at all but just a doll stumbling backward on two wooden legs. As you walk, your palm stays stuck to the laminate underneath it, and suddenly, you feel it.

An envelope.

In this state, you aren’t sure why you grab it, but you do.

You take the lone white paper, and you turn to leave. Your hands shake as you hold the thing, and your legs are hardly any better, but they carry you, miraculously, from the kitchen to the threshold of the back door. Then out. Stetson’s not just yelling but bellowing, loud, every last obscenity known to man as he holds his bloodied side and limps in his perilous, pathetic way. Fortunately, you’re gone just in time to miss the bottle he hurls.

Outside, you walk. And walk. And in the still of the night you’re obliged to find your way through a miscellany of trailers and trucks and old, creaking vans by moonlight, and the throbbing in your head begins to slow. You don’t rush to get far, and you don’t have your keys even if you wanted to drive off. You keep walking. Watching nothing.

When your eyes drift to the envelope in your hand, you barely see that either. You’re just blinking as you look, and breathing as you wait for the sight to make sense.

Inside, you find seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson staring back. Next to them are a few dozen others—enough to cover August, September, October, and several months before that, if you had to guess.

You hope you’ll get the opportunity to thank Joel, and maybe tell him that you don’t really hate him, someday.

[shybluebirdninja]

Second Date

continuation from this.

Summary: Logan’s nerves ease up during the second date, as he finally opens up about being a mutant, and things get hilariously sweet and chaotic.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff

You weren’t sure what to expect for the second date. After all, Logan had been… well, awkward as hell the first time. He was cute, sure, but the guy seemed more comfortable punching bad guys than sitting at a bar chatting about work. But still, here you were, standing outside the dessert shop he picked for tonight.

Through the window, you spotted him in his signature flannel, boots still a little muddy—classic Logan. When he saw you, he stood up like a soldier ready for duty. Adorable.

“Hey, babe,” Logan greeted you, catching you off guard. Babe? Really? Since when did he start calling you that?

You blinked, trying not to laugh. “Babe, huh? We're moving fast.”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly not used to the nickname either. “Yeah, uh... figured I’d try it out. Sounded better in my head.”

You smirked. “Nah, it’s cute. Keep it up.”

The place was cozy, full of pastel-colored walls and a dessert counter that looked like it was out of a Pinterest board. Logan looked hilariously out of place—like a bear in a cupcake shop—but you found it charming.

“So, you brought me to a dessert place?” you teased as you sat down.

Logan shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “Figured you'd like it. Plus, beer and wings weren’t exactly a hit last time.”

You grinned. “True. But this is nice. Besides, who doesn’t like sugar?”

Logan cracked a small smile, still fidgeting like he didn’t know where to put his hands. The waitress came by, and you both ordered a ridiculous-looking dessert platter. But Logan stayed quiet for a minute, clearly holding something back.

Finally, after he stabbed his fork into a cupcake, he blurted, “I gotta tell you somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Sounds serious.”

“I’m, uh... kinda not like most people.” He paused, looking at you for a reaction, but you just nodded. “I’m a mutant.”

You blinked. “Oh. Is that it?”

Logan stared at you like you'd just told him Santa was real. “What d’ya mean, ‘is that it’? I’m practically a walking science experiment! Claws, healing powers, and I’ve lived through more wars than I care to count!”

You sipped your drink and smiled. “Logan, c'mon. Mutants aren’t exactly rare. You know that, right? Everyone’s cool with it now.”

Logan’s face softened, clearly relieved. “Shit. You’re serious?”

You nodded. “Yeah, babe. It's all good. Besides, claws are kinda hot.”

He nearly choked on his cupcake. “Claws are hot?”

You leaned in, grinning. “What else you got?”

Logan finally relaxed, a real smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I can heal pretty quick. Like, faster than you’d believe.”

“Useful in case you fall during the ice skating part of tonight, huh?”

Logan frowned, confused. “Ice skatin’? I don’t—” He trailed off when you pointed at the rink just across the street. “You serious? I’ll look like an idiot.”

“You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m clumsy as hell. You’ll just have to catch me.”

Logan’s expression softened at that, his usual gruffness fading a bit. “Yeah, alright. But if you fall, I’m draggin’ you outta there.”

Half an hour later, you were wobbling on the ice, while Logan, surprisingly stable, kept pace beside you. Turns out super healing makes for decent balance.

“I told you I’d suck at this!” you laughed, nearly toppling over for the third time.

Logan caught your arm, pulling you upright with a grin. “You weren’t lyin’, babe. You’re like a baby deer out here.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, barely keeping your feet under you.

You slipped—again—and this time, Logan yanked you into him, his arms catching you just in time. For a second, you both just stood there, inches apart, his breath warm against your cheek. Logan looked down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re a menace on ice, you know that?”

Before you could snap back, he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek. “But you’re cute as hell, so I guess I can deal.”

Your heart did a little flip. Logan? Pinching cheeks and calling you cute? Who was this guy?

“Y’know, you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be,” you teased, nudging him.

Logan just grunted, looking away. “Don’t get used to it.”

You chuckled. “Too late, babe.”

The night went on like that—little moments of clumsy skating and playful jabs, Logan more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. By the time you both sat down on a bench outside, you were still laughing about how you’d nearly taken him down with you on the ice.

“Alright, you win,” he said, wiping his brow. “Maybe ice skatin’ ain’t so bad.”

“Maybe?” you raised an eyebrow. “I think you had fun.”

Logan smirked, leaning back. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you—soft at first, but with enough heat to make your stomach flip. And when he pulled back, his eyes had that same mischievous glint from earlier.

“Round three?” he muttered against your lips.

You laughed, cheeks burning. “You’re on, babe.”

[angelyuji]

mr. pines

stanley pines x f!reader

reader needs a job really badly and stanford pines gives her a job... with a couple conditions.

tw // noncon, power imbalance, older man/younger woman, old man stan being gross, slight misogyny (mostly the pet names), also plss lmk if i missed anything

18+!!!!!!!! pls!!! pls!!! mind the tw and tags (also this is posted on my ao3 acc as well!)

you’ve been scrounging around for a job since you moved to gravity falls. finally, after a couple of months of begging around, the diner waitress, susan, had told you that the stan pines might be hiring at the mystery shack. you had promised the landlord that you’d give them the rent as soon as you find a job, but you can tell they were getting tired of letting you stay rent free.

you had walked to the mystery shack, only a 15-minute walk from the apartment. when you walk in, you’re hit with the smell of sandalwood and glue. you walk over to the red-headed teenager at the cashier stand.

“hey, uh- lazy susan said you guys were hiring?” she looks up from her phone to think for a second.

“oh really? um i guess you can check with stan. his office is right down the hall. he should be in there right now.” she points down the dark hallway to your right and goes right back to her phone. you thank her and she gives you a smile in response. goosebumps rise on your skin as you walk down the eerie, dark hallway. you were starting to second guess your choice of jobs, but you knock on the office door before you chicken out.

“come in.” a gruff voice calls from inside. you swallow and open the door.

“hi! i’m here to apply for a job at the mystery shack.” you smile and shut the door behind you. the only light in the room from the windows in the office. he hums and doesn’t say anything. he gestures to the chair next to him. you sit down and look around the messy office. a taxidermized animal head, a statue of an owl, a huge safe, all sorts of odd things litter the office.

“what are some of your qualifications?” he grunts out, surprising you. you list out your old jobs and hand over the resume that you brought. he gives it a once-over before tossing it into the trash can next to him.

“oh i needed that ba-” he holds a hand up and you shut your mouth. you don’t say anything as he leans back in his chair.

“you’ve got potential, (y/n).” he nods, “but… i don’t really want to pay anyone and it doesn’t seem like we really need the people all that much.” he shrugs.

you start to panic, reaching out and grabbing his hand, “please, mr. pines. i really need this job.” you beg and you watch him think for a couple minutes before smiling.

he clears his throat, “you know what, sweetheart? come back after the shack is closed, then we’ll talk about a job.” he stands up, your hands falling back to your sides, and you realize how much taller he was than you, how much more intimidating he was.

you pause to think, but realizing you have no other choice, “sure, i guess i’ll be back around 10 then.” he opens the door, but takes up most of the exit. you squeeze out from around him.

“i’ll see you then, sweetcheeks.” you feel eyes on your ass as you leave the shack. unfortunately, time goes by quickly and you’re back at the mystery shack. your stomach turns, warning you to make the right choice. you quietly go inside and notice that only the lights in stan’s office were on.

you fumble through the shop to the closed door. “hello?” you knock. mr. pines calls out for you to come in. you enter and you see him sitting on his desk, waiting for you. you clear your throat, “hi mr. pines.” he quirks an eyebrow at you and gets up. you force yourself to not back away as he comes closer to you. he walks past you and closes the door. you hear the quiet click of the lock and you feel chills go down your spine. alarms start going off in your head as he goes back and collapses into the chair. he leans back in his chair, groaning.

“so, you want a job here?” stan raises an eyebrow. you nod, “hmm… maybe i can help you, dollface.”

you let out a sigh in relief, “thank you so much, mr. pines. i’ll do anything, i really need this job.”

“anything, huh.” he nods with a smirk. you nod, eagerly.

“i’ll scrub walls, wash your car, or work from open to close! i will do literally anything!”

“you don’t have to do anything like that, sugarpie” you tilt your head, suddenly hearing the pet names. “you’ll just have to do a small little favor for me.” you don’t respond, hoping he’d explain. he gestures for you to come closer. you walk over to his desk and he turns the chair to face you. “kneel down for me.”

you awkwardly giggle, “what?” mr. pines looks at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

“kneel down.” he stands up, you feel your heart drop. stan pines towers over you and grabs a fistful of your hair. he pushes you down and you yelp as your scalp stings. you try to crawl away, but he doesn’t let go of your hair. he uses one hand to unbuckle his belt and let his pants drop. his cock hangs, big and girthy. your eyes go wide.

“mr. pines. please, don’t. i don’t want to do this.” you beg, feeling the panic rise and tears start to well up in your eyes. he looks down at you with a smirk, but let’s go. you scramble up and back against the wall. he sits back down, nonchalantly.

“fine, you can leave, sweetheart.” he shrugs. you back away quickly, hoping to get out of the office as fast as possible. “but…” you pause as your hand touches the doorknob, “you need me, baby. suzie told me about you: new girl with no job, relentless landlord, and not a single friend in town.” he laughs, deep and unsettling.

“fuck. you. i’m going to the cops and i’ll tell them what you did.” you turn and glare, voice dripping in malice. you twist the doorknob, planning to get the hell out of the place.

he stares at you, a smirk resting on his face. you felt frozen in place. “and what then? the people of gravity falls know me, toots. they know of my… reputation. they’re gonna tell you that you should’ve known better. i mean,” he barks out a laugh, “you came to the mystery shack after hours to see me. you should’ve known.” your hand drops from the doorknob. you stare at your feet. “i could help you, (y/n). i’ll pay you good money as long as you meet my requests.” you look up, tears dripping down your face, and stan smiles. he gestures for you to come closer. you, reluctantly, come back to stand in front of him. you make sure to keep your eyes away from his undone pants.

“what-what do you want me to do?” you sniffle. with surprising gentleness, he grabs your hand and helps you to your knees. he cups your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“all you have to do is do what i say. it’s a win-win situation, toots.” you start to feel yourself going numb. his hand leaves your face and he leans back. you inch closer, carefully placing your hands on his thighs. you move one hand up to gingerly wrap it around his cock. you hear him grunt at your touch and your vision starts to blur as your tears flow harder. you steady yourself on his thigh and stroke his dick.

stan groans, but you hear more irritation than arousal. “you don’t have to be so gentle, sweetheart. it won’t bite.” he growls. you swallow back the bile rising in your throat and tighten your grip a little more. with each stroke, stan’s grunts progressively louder. you watch as pre-cum leaks from his tip and feel his dick get harder with every stroke. but as you feel his thighs tense, stan grabs your hand.

“come closer.” he rasped. you inch closer, “i need you to open your mouth, sweetheart.” you hold back a gag and shake your head. stan grabs you by the chin and pulls you closer, you tighten your lips. stan chuckles before letting go of your chin to pinch your nose. your eyes widen, unable to think or breathe. you open your mouth to take a breath and stan lets go of your nose to shove two fingers into your mouth. you gag around his thick fingers, “you are just so beautiful, dollface, i can’t wait to use you every day.” he whispered and you feel a sudden wave of heat in your lower belly. he pulls his fingers out and you try to look away, but stan’s hand tangles itself in your hair. your eyes trail down from his face to his other hand, gripping his thick cock.

“wait-” you choke out, but stan pulls your head forward and plows himself into your mouth. he moves your head frantically, you choke and gargle as saliva and pre-cum drips down your throat and face. tears flow freely from your eyes as you were used as a worthless sex toy. you can feel yourself getting wetter and you feel disgusted.

“oh god, sugar, you feel so good. so. fucking. good.” he groans out, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. you could feel the tip of his dick almost going down your throat. you could see black spots dancing in your vision and you hit stan’s thighs, praying for a reprieve. you swallow around stan’s cock, trying to bring yourself back to consciousness, and stan moans. “oh, fuck,” stan’s hips stutter and he pushes your head down. your nose hits his springy, gray, pubic hair and you can feel his cock pulse as he cums down your throat. his hand loosens from your hair and you lurch backwards, gagging at the leftover taste of his bitter, salty, hot cum. you stumbled to the ground, leaning back against the wall, with your knees pressed to your chest.

“oh god, oh god.” you sob. stan gets up, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. he gets his wallet out and tosses forward a couple hundred-dollar bills. “consider this your signing bonus.” he pulls something out of his drawer and tosses a contract in front of you. “once you sign this, you’re a full-time mystery shack employee.” he walks to the door and opens it to leave, but looks back at you, “you’re a good lay, toots. i’ll see you tomorrow at 6. don’t be late.” he turns and walks out, leaving you shivering and humiliated.

[yandereforme]

Yan!Mafia Batfamily x reader

Part 1:Introduction and Duke

TW: Mentions of murder, mention of harassment

After Bruce’s parents died, Bruce began having the same mindset Red Hood/Jason had in canon; You can’t eradicate crime, but you can control it.

He soon built a persona of the bat, a mafia boss that everyone knew and feared/loved. This is a less moral Batman, who doesn’t personally kill, but has nothing against murder if it’s just.(Justice remains a part of his mission.)

This leads to a slightly more complicated bat family, with each of them playing a vital role as their counterparts, and Robin being the term used for shadowing the big bat, and learning the ropes. (If you want me to expand on that part, let me know$

No one knows the Wayne’s are the Batfam, but they all know they are vaguely connected, with many suspecting a relationship between Bruce and The Bat or The Bat being an illegitimate child of Thomas Wayne(though neither theory is voiced in earshot of the Wayne’s. Connected to the Bat or not, the Wayne family is still terrifying.)

Most people are pretty scared of the Waynes and the Bats like, fearing them and avoiding them 

You, on the other hand, could give less of a shit about them.

You are an orphan with good grades and even better computer skills. So while everyone believed you lived with your parents who traveled, and that you were 17 to your actual age of 13, you got away with living on your own and working a part time job. Working as a waitress wasn’t terrible, though you occasionally had to deal with Karens and harassment.

However, after a terrible night at work where a Karen poured her drink over you and a drunk idiot slapped your ass, you had run out of willingness to deal with bullshit. So, when a trust fund brat tried to make you move from your seat in the library, you refused, glaring at the blurry person standing next to you, ignoring the gasps from the students around you.

You expected him to yell at you, or let his companion, who was glaring hard at you, deal with you. Instead, he spoke briefly with his friend in a language you didn’t recognize. After a minute or so, they both sat down and quietly studied with you

Duke was charmed by your behavior. It has been a long time since anyone outside of the family had said no to him. The look of anger in your eyes was belied by pure exhaustion. He knew you had no clue who he was, and you were too tired to care.

You were interesting. So Duke didn’t let Damian yell at you or (attempt to) intimidate you.(while Damien was very intimidating when he had to be, Duke had a feeling you would not care in the slightest.)

So Duke convinced Damian to sit with him while he observed you studying, instead of discussing Bat business like they had planned. He had known of you, and Duke remembered you being in a few of his classes, but this stunt caught his interest too much to let you go.

You weren’t sure why, but apparently the Wayne kid (or Duke as he insisted you call him) seemed charmed by you basically telling him to fuck off. He started partnering with you in classes when he would normally work alone. He started eating his lunches with you in the library or in the auditorium, even having his brother join you on occasion.

You slowly got used to his presence, and even became begrudgingly fond of him and his little brother, even though his brother tended to stare at you more often than not. You hadn’t had very many friends for a long time, so maybe this was gonna be a good thing.

A big thing with Duke Thomas was that while he may seem calm, he is one of the most calculating of the Yanderes. He will always appear to be on your side, but unable to help you. He will become one of your closest confidence trusted friend , all without you realizing how much of a manipulative and possessive Yandere he is. He just knows that letting you have more of an illusion of power will help in the long run of making you like him.

So for now he’ll be content, letting you slowly come to him, similar to a feral cat. You’ll adore him soon enough. Come to think of it, you might make an excellent addition to the family.~

Edit: Life has been hitting me like a semi truck. I won’t go into too much detail, but I just ended a long-term relationship, had one of my grandparents die, and the other have a stroke. There’s a bunch of other stuff I also could mention, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Updates will be very sporadic for a long time I think. I’m sorry and I really hope you guys understand. Got enough motivation today to finally finish the first part of the Mafia au. Don’t know when I’ll be updating any of the other ones. I really hope you like this.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Firefighter ❤

Credit for the amazing pictures goes to: @d-lioncourt (thank you so much for doing them)

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Manipulation; Memory Loss.

Special credit to @deceitfuldevout cause she's the one that came up with the idea, thank you!

--

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who jumps right into rescue when your building has a major fire on a Saturday night.

He doesn’t even hesitate before jumping into action, running inside the apartment complex, ready to save everyone. Control the damage. Be a hero. Save lives.

It’s his job, after all, right?

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who ends up saving what might be the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life - yes, you.

Your hair is ruffled and your face is tinged with tears and black smoke, but his heart stops positively for a moment when his eyes land on you.

You’re passed out on the floor and for a moment, all of his world stopped and everything made sense. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who doesn’t understand what’s happening. Never had he been one to believe in love at first sight, not him.

He was the one that steered far away from cheesy foolish things such as commitment and marriage - casual hookups were more his style. 

But meeting you changed things. He experienced what he never thought would happen to him. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter that fights tooth and nail to be by your side when the paramedics step in to take care of you. You’re passed out, having inhaled too much smoke but they assure him that you’ll be fine. 

But still he doesn’t relax, unable to take his eyes off you. You look peaceful while sleeping, a comforting aura around you as you travel in the realm of dreams. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who comes to visit you at the hospital, claiming the plastic chair next to your bed as he waits for you to regain consciousness.

When the nurses ask him who he is, he shrugs off his shoulder, muttering something unsure and shaky that sounds a lot like ‘boy friend’.

Doctors say that might take a day or two, that you probably gained a concussion from when you passed out and hit your head on the floor. In the meanwhile he does some research, he’s got some connections in the local PD and uses it to do some much-needed research on you.

You’re originally from another country, recently having emigrated for work. You’ve got no family alive. Not much of a record in the police files. You’re low-profile, having a small job as a waitress in a restaurant near your apartment. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter whose mind drifts to the worst scenarios as he impatiently waits for you to finally wake up. How will you react to seeing him?

Will you feel the same ardent and powerful emotion that has him completely enamored to you? Will you accept him or his feelings?

His insides are dancing with anxiety and apprehension at what will happen next and he crosses his fingers in a silent prayer for you to love him back. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who is borderline starstruck when you groggily start opening your eyes, feeling himself falling in love with you all over again. 

He calls the doctors and then panic is installed in the room.

You can’t seem to remember who you are, what your name is. Nothing at all. Doctors try to comfort you, explaining it’s normal.

You just suffered a concussion. It happens. Your memory will come back one day - tomorrow or in two decades, the doctors aren’t sure of that. 

And then, you look at him for the first time, acknowledging his presence. Butterflies erupt wildly in his belly as you give him your attention, confusedly looking at him. 

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But he still does. The answer is unconsciously on the tip of his tongue, just ready to be spilled as you question who he is. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who shamelessly lies about being your boyfriend, the answer coming firm and steady.

He feels guilty for doing this, but isn’t this a great chance? It’s destiny, telling him that maybe he doesn’t need to spend months - or even years - courting you. 

So he takes the chance, creating a beautiful love story where you’re dating him. That you’re practically engaged.  

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who tells himself that this isn’t lying. It’s just…forcing the circumstances a bit. All the indecision and fear is resolved when you accept his answer, not throwing a thousand questions his way - questions he doesn’t have answers to.

No, you’re calm, almost passive about it. You don’t cry in frustration of losing all your memories, accepting the short answers he gives to appease you, making up some of them.

He sighs in relief at how docile and sweet you are. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who kisses your knuckles, promising that you and him - together - will make new memories. The ones that will last for the rest of your life.

Promises to keep you safe and sound. To marry you. To love you. To cherish you. To treat you like the precious diamond you are. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who finally takes you to his apartment - your new home.

He doesn’t lie about what happened, saying that you were almost at the point of moving in together when your apartment burned.

Hence why your clothes aren’t in the wardrobe, but promises you can use his until he takes you shopping. 

Immediately falls in love with how cute you look with his oversized hoodie on, despite the slight uncomfortable expression on your face. Almost makes him want to keep you forever in his clothes. 

◾ Yandere!Firefighter who induces you into taking upon the domestic chores. Keeping your mind and body busy - hopefully that’ll help keeping old memories away. Memories where he doesn’t exist.

He never thought he’d be one to enjoy coming home to a freshly cleaned apartment, a meal ready to be served and a pretty girl waiting for his arrival but he loves it. 

He kisses you softly every time he arrives from work, making sure he doesn’t smell like smoke - doesn’t want the smell to trigger something in you - hugging you tightly before you pull away. 

You’re always reluctant when it comes to PDA, as if your subconscious knows there’s something wrong even if you don’t voice those thoughts.

But with time, he hopes to convince you to do more than just a few rushed shallow kisses and awkward cuddles where you pull away after five seconds. He says it’s okay, being understanding of your reactions but the fact is that he’s aching for you.

He wants you so bad that he has to rub one off every night, hidden in the bathroom cause sleeping in the same bed as you is so fucking tempting. 

Maybe once you’re finally married, he can convince you to accept him - all of him. Soon enough, he’s on one knee, presenting you a ring that he immediately slides on even if you didn’t answer. 

You’re his and that’s all that matters.

[pinksturniolo]

Switch - Chris and Matt Sturniolo (Part One)

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

Summary: Cherry Bomb - The largest underground BDSM club in Los Angeles, California. Its member list is extremely exclusive, only granting access to celebrities, influencers and the filthy rich. No one really cares who you are or what you do, they come for one thing and one thing only. Whatever happens at the Cherry stays at the Cherry….

Content warnings: smut, oral, fingering, protected sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, threesome

this story has heavy themes and descriptions of bdsm, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read <3

word count: 3,879

Neon lights bounce off the shiny black walls, loud music playing but not too loud that you can’t hear what the blonde guy next to you is saying. He’s been talking your ear off for the last 20 minutes, while you zone out, sipping on your lemon club soda. This was the only time you wished they served alcohol here so you could at least be tipsy enough to endure the men that have been approaching you tonight.

Your usual partner hasn’t shown up yet and you have already been here for almost an hour. You try to ignore the slight ache in your chest though, focusing your attention back to the man next to you.

“So, how long you been coming here?” He asks.

“About 6 months now.” You reply.

“Damn, I feel like an amateur." He laughs, “This is only my second time.”

Obviously.

You hated to think so rudely but every person you’ve talked to tonight just wasn’t the one you preferred. You were starting to get extremely impatient, wondering where he was. He was never late.

As if your internal monologue has been heard by a higher power, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and turn in your seat to see the same man you were just thinking of. He has a dark look on his face as he eyes the person next to you.

“I don’t think she’s very interested buddy, why don’t you go bother some other poor girl.” He says to him, his hand now curling around your shoulder possessively.

The blonde guy’s face reddens with embarrassment as he quickly scrambles up from his chair. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours.” he says and quickly walks off.

You scoff as your partner sits next to you, ordering a water from the waitress.

“That was unnecessary.” You say, his face still annoyed as he relaxes into the chair, his arm still slung around the back of you. He takes a long sip of his water, avoiding looking at you. You see his jaw clench and he runs a hand through his hair before speaking.

“What were you doing talking to that loser anyways?” He finally asks, making eye contact with you and he looks pissed.

“Oh my god, are you jealous Matt? Maybe you should’ve been here on time before other guys had the chance to talk to me.” you reply, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

He then grabs the side of your chair, pulling it forcefully towards him, causing you to gasp out. Your thighs are touching, and his hand moves from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, sliding up to knot his fingers in your hair and pull slightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t entertain other men when I’m not around and wait patiently for me like a good girl. Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to? Hm?” He whispers in your ear threateningly. Your core pulses with arousal at his words, his warm breath on your neck causing tingles to shoot down your spine.

So of course, this leads to you replying with a smart remark, which makes him take you to the candy room and punish you until you beg for forgiveness.

There were numerous rooms in the club that members could use, their time limit being an hour. But the main rooms that were larger and you could reserve for however long you wanted (at a high price) were only four. The star room, the red room, the flower room and the candy room.

The candy room is where you and Matt spend most of your encounters together at the Cherry Bomb. However, there’s nothing sweet about it besides the name. Its walls are painted red, a black bed with silk sheets in the middle and glossy black floors. There’s a cabinet of floggers, ropes, leather and fuzzy cuffs, vibrators and anything else you can imagine.

There’s no particular reason why it’s your favorite but Matt has been reserving it for you since you met him here and it’s become a routine on a Saturday night, twice a month.

Cherry Bomb has been around since the late 80s and has done a particularly good job at keeping its participants a secret, mainly due to the NDA you have to sign upon your first entry, along with a recent STD panel and heavy entrance fee. They also prohibited alcohol and drug use.

You were referred by one of your friends, which made it easier for you to get in. The money was no issue for you, but the wait list was long and having a friend on the inside had its benefits.

You instantly loved it from the first time you came. The atmosphere wasn’t grungy or too dark like you would expect a typical sex club to be. No one seemed to care who you were here, there was no judgement, and it was a safe place to act out your wildest fantasies, with whoever you choose.

You had had experiences with a couple different men and women, all which were satisfying for the most part. Most people had a habit of choosing a particular partner and being loyal to them, while others constantly swapped, not staying with one person too long.

When you met Matt, you instantly clicked, and found something in him that you hadn’t felt with any other member. He approached you one night, his demeanor confident but also calm. The energy flowed between you two, and once he got you to the room alone, it was fireworks. He was very clear on consent being an important aspect and boundaries were established before anything else.

Matt was a switch, like you. While most of the time he preferred to be dominate, he could also be submissive which was heaven to you. You loved it when he took control, using your body however he pleased, and he knew the best way to handle your brattiness. Because as much as it felt good to submit to him, you also had a fiery attitude which only made the pleasure of his punishment better.

He made you beg till you cried, spanked you so hard you had marks for weeks, and would tie you to the bed and fuck you until your brain was fuzzy, and your throat was raw from screaming his name. Making you cum over and over again until you were numb.

But when he was the submissive for the night… it was a whole different experience. There was nothing better than the feeling of him begging you to please him, demanding him to do whatever you wanted. Edging him until he was whimpering for you, teasing him and seeing how much he enjoyed it. Nothing compared.

And the best part about Matt that you liked, was that he always took the time to make sure you had the proper after care after each session. Cleaning you up, getting you water if you needed it, and even massaging your body if he went particularly hard on you that night.

He was currently holding you after tonight's session was done, rubbing small soothing circles on your back, your head cradled against his chest. You can hear his heart beating at a relaxed pace, calming you as your own heart slows down to match his tempo.

He breaks the sweet silence, his velvety voice pulling you out of your trance. “Y/N… I have a question for you.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, your fatigue settling in.

“How do you feel about a threesome?” He says, his hand stroking over the top of your head.

You’re alert now, lifting your head to turn and look at him. His eyes are half closed, a lazy smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

“I think it’s pretty hot. Is that something you want to do?” You reply.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I’ve experienced them before, yes. Depends… who would it be with?”

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth, a contemplative look on his face.

“I know someone that’s interested. In you. He’s always wanted to come to Cherry but he’s hesitant.” Matt says and your heart rate picks up a little at his words.

“He’s interested in me?” You ask, surprised at the fact that Matt talks about you outside of the club. That would be breaking the NDA.

He strokes his hand over the side of your face, caressing your jaw with his fingers. His eyes are soft, like they always are at the end of the night, adoring you with affection.

“Sorry, princess. I know I’m technically not supposed to talk to anyone about this. But I trust him… and I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you would be upset.” He says.

You sit up now, fully facing him, and place your arms on either side of him, one hand resting on his chest and the other on his bicep.

“I know, I’m not upset. I’m flattered actually.” You say, smirking, the idea of what he’s proposing piquing your curiosity.

“Mm. Don’t get too cocky. But if you would like to try it out, I’ll tell him to come with me next time.” He tells you.

Your mind races at the thought of a threesome with him and another man, wondering how exactly that would change the dynamic between you two. Matt could be a little possessive and you were more than satisfied with just him as your partner but it made you think of how he would be able to share you. It excites you. He must trust this other person a lot.

“Who is it?” You ask him and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you with an amused look.

“It’s a surprise.”

✰✿

You return to Cherry Bomb two weeks later, more nervous than you had been any other time you’ve come. But your anticipation outweighs your nerves as you sit at the bar, patiently waiting for Matt. You’re wearing a skin tight black lace dress that’s basically see through, showing your matching black lingerie set underneath. Sleek red heels are on your feet, your hair falling in soft loose waves that frame your face and a light coat of mascara through your eyelashes.

You took the time to put extra effort into your appearance tonight, and practically everyone in the club notices, staring at you as they wander around. But you pay no mind, your focus on the soda in front of you. Matt would be fuming with rage if he knew you were entertaining anyone else tonight and usually you would play with fire but given the special circumstances, you decided not to mess with him tonight.

The waitress hands you a note, pulling you out of your thoughts. She smiles at you politely before walking off, attending to another customer.

Meet me in the red room.

It’s Matt’s handwriting. He’s never done this before, always meeting you at the bar and then escorting you to your usual room. Your palms sweat as you stand from your chair and make your way to the large room at the end of the hall with the red door.

The red room. It was the largest room in the club, and the only one you hadn’t been in before. You’ve heard rumors of how luxurious it was which is why it was so hard to book. How Matt was able to get it tonight, you’re not sure.

You take a deep breath and adjust your dress, pushing the door open. The cool air of the room hits you, tiny goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your heart picks up speed at the sight of Matt centered directly at the center edge of the bed. He’s also dressed in all black, his eyes roaming up and down your body in hunger as you saunter over to him.

Wait. Is that Matt? You pause in front of him, a few feet away. His hair is longer, and his face is extremely similar but with a slight difference. And his aura is arrogant. But when you make eye contact with him, you feel butterflies gather in your stomach, his blue eyes making you drown with attraction. It’s the same feeling Matt gives you but there’s something different about him.

You now realize it’s not Matt at all.

The smug smile on his lips that’s been growing since he noticed the confusion on your face only widens, his hands gripping the sides of the bed, making the muscles in his arm flex. He looks incredibly strong.

“Looking for someone?” He asks teasingly and you can already feel the pool of wetness growing by the second in your underwear.

“Where’s Matt?” You ask sweetly, tilting your head. Your arms are crossed and your eyes narrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through.

Let the games begin.

The stranger in front of you chuckles, leaning back on his arms now, his legs spreading slightly in jeans. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again. You can’t help but do the same.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Don’t like what you see?” He says, his bottom lip stuck out in a fake pout.

You smile at him, mocking the tone in his voice. “I prefer princess.”

He laughs lowly, biting his lip and looks behind you. “You weren’t lying when you said she was a brat.” He says and you whip your head around, shocked to see Matt sitting in the love seat at the corner of the room.

You hadn’t noticed him at all when you walked in, given the darkness of the room and the fact he was so quiet during your exchange.

Matt has a blank expression, not looking at you. “Call her whatever you want, Chris.”

You can see that he’s dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s simple, like the clothes he usually wears but he still looks incredible.

You’re still turned towards him, giving Chris a full view of your ass now, which you’re sure he’s appreciating.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” You tell him, your eyebrows raised in amusement.

The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile, exchanging a look with Chris that you can’t decipher. “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

He gets up from his seat now and crosses the room to where you are. You’re about to respond with a witty remark but he’s suddenly gripping your arms, turning you around forcefully to face Chris again.

Your ass is pressed into his crotch, and you feel him harden against you. You gasp lightly as he places his mouth next to your ear, whispering lowly.

“That’s enough from you, Princess. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless it’s a yes or no. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and Chris watches with fascination at the way Matt handles you. You can see how visibly turned on he is, his boner straining through his jeans.

You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been, the feeling of Matt’s strong grip on your arms, as he places soft wet kisses on the curve of your neck and the look in Chris’ eyes as they burn into yours, his pupils blown out.

“Are you comfortable? You know your safe word, right?” He asks you, his tone a little lighter. He wraps one hand around your throat, the other on your left hip and squeezes.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Good.” He replies, releasing you completely and you feel him back up from behind you. “Now get on your knees.”

Your heart races as you sink down, Chris’ eyes following your every moment. He hasn’t taken them off you since you entered the room and something in his eyes made you very nervous but incredibly excited at the same time.

Matt is now seated on the opposite side of the room, in a large leather chair. He’s directly in front of you now, to the side of Chris. You sit obediently on your knees, your eyes still focused on him as he speaks his next set of instructions.

“Why don’t you show Chris how you put that mouth to good use.” he says, nodding his head for you to continue.

You swallow and look away from Matt now, to see an enticing smirk on his brother’s face. He spreads his legs farther open as he adjusts himself on the bed, unbuckling his belt from his jeans. He places it on the mattress next to him and pulls his jeans down and off his legs.

You scoot closer to him, positioning yourself between his legs, your hands resting on top of his thighs. The look in your eyes is enough to get his heart racing like yours, and he curls a finger under your chin, tugging your face closer to him as he leans down.

“Let me taste your lips, sweetheart.” He says softly and connects his mouth to yours.

Now you can tell the real difference between them. Matt is harsh, yet caring. His energy penetrates you with a feeling of deep connection, a tie that binds you to him in one more ways then one. The trust you two have built over the past few months comes through when your bodies mesh with one another. He knows just what to say to please you and you in return, love to obey his every wish and command.

But Chris… he kisses you like he’s starving. He’s sweet, yet strong. It’s all new territory to explore, and you can almost taste the desperation on his tongue. His hands are soft against your face, warmth flooding your body at the feeling of his touch. You wonder just how much Matt has expressed to him, what secrets he’s revealed about all the sinful, delicious acts you’ve conceived with him in the candy room.

Chris is magnetic, his wet, hot kisses making you ache in your core. He finally pulls away from you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in a dark look. “Take your dress off.” He speaks.

You pull it off with no hesitation, up and over your head, now in your lingerie beneath him.

He drinks in the sight of your half naked body, your tits pushing against your bra, the hem of your black thong high on your hips and you slip your heels off.

He pulls his dick out, red tip leaking with precum already. He’s practically the same length as Matt, with a little more girth. It’s a little intimidating but your needs overpower, your mouth watering as you look at him.

You open your mouth, puckering your lips to let a pool of saliva drip down onto his length and you make eye contact with Matt, the look he gives you making a spark run through you.

Chris groans as you look back at him, spreading your spit down him with your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue. “Shit… feels so fucking good.” He rasps.

His chest is moving up and down as he breathes deeply, exhaling from his nose as he grits his teeth, and you take him further into your mouth. It’s a little hard to adjust to his size but you do, bobbing your head as he brushes the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

He moans loudly, bucking his hips up slightly. He pulls your hair back from your face, holding it into a ponytail, tightly, pulling at your hair a little. This makes you moan in return around him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the pleasure. The air in the room is thick now, the sounds of Chris fucking your mouth and his groaning filling the space. You can feel Matt’s stare on you, and your knees dig into the softness of the shaggy black carpet, your grip on Chris’s thighs tightening.

“Fuck.” He pants, and moves his hands down your back, your body bending slightly so your ass poked out, allowing him access to feel you up. He caresses the flesh of your cheeks, massaging them before he brings one hand down to smack you.

You jolt slightly, not expecting him to do that, and hum around him, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah? You like that?” he says, smacking you once more, making it sting a little. You make another noise of approval, his cock still stuffed down your throat but then pull out, with a response you’re later bound to regret. “Not hard enough.”

You look up through your lashes at him and your heart races from how mad he looks. When Matt gets that mad, his eyes glaze over, and his face is cold. But Chris smiles. Even though his eyes are hard, there’s a grin on his face that says, ‘You have no idea what you just started.’  It’s insanely attractive.

He then reaches next to him, the metal of his belt clanking. He folds it, and you see the genuine leather thick in his hand.

He grabs the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your hair. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You glance at Matt and his hand palms over the hardness in his jeans, his other hand gripping on the arm of the chair.

Fuck.

You take Chris into your mouth again, your ass in the air for him. He sighs as he slips back down your throat, dragging the belt across you. He does this agonizingly slow, your head working on him. Finally, he slaps your it on your ass, hard. You moan loudly, your nails digging into his thighs. “How’s that, princess?”

You breathe out hard from your nose, the harsh sting of the belt lingering. Chris rubs his hand over your cheek, soothing the skin there, allowing you a few seconds of relief before he brings it down against you again, a loud smack ringing in the air.

You cry out, tears forming in your eyes and bring your head up slightly, gasping for air.

See, the pain… the pain sucked. You saw red each time you were punished like this but after the few seconds of hurt passes, you feel a rush of euphoria, and tingles of pleasure you just can’t get enough of.

“Hm? Don’t got anything to say now? Is this what you wanted?” Chris says, his large hands squeezing and rubbing you, before bringing his belt down once more against you. All you can do now is whimper, your actions on Chris at a complete stop, while you grip his thighs, tears now streaming down your face, mascara running.

You look up at him through your pitiful tears, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your face is flushed, lips red and swollen. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He whispers and your heart flutters at his compliment.

You wonder if Matt heard and flick your gaze to him again. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his black boxers showing, his hand still on himself but not moving. He smirks, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

Chris then grips your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look back at him.

“What do you think Matt? Think she deserves to cum?”

“Give her what she wants.” He replies.

a/n: soooo this one was supposed to be a full one shot but i had to split it into two parts or else it was gonna be too long lol i had this idea in my head i just had to write it out, so i promise i'll work on the final part of my matt series soon!!

taglist <3 :

@christhopersturniolo @sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @junovrsmp4 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @stingerayyy2 @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @muwapsturniolo

[kurokawaia]

❛ RUN, BABY. RUN ❜

Yandere! Sanzu Haruchiyo X Fem!Reader

WC; 3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: OVERALL WARNINGS Yandere themes dark content, inexperienced!reader, timid!shy!reader, pet names 'baby' 'doll' + more, drugs (sanzu's part), alcohol, clubs, age gap -> reader is implied to be around 20-22, reader is described to be shorter than Sanzu, smut, nsfw, piv, no protection, begging, rough sex? missionary, oral -> female receiving, male receiving, doggy, marking, possessive, possession, restriction, kidnapping?, biting? eventual predator play, based on the song runrunrun by dutch melrose + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: meeting Sanzu in that club and accepting that one offer to dance with him, that was when you should've said no, then maybe, you wouldn't be in this situation you are in now.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list - PART 1 / PART 2

You knew it was a lousy idea going out in a group of three-well, it would have been four if one of your best friends hadn't pulled out last minute. Of course, you knew her reasoning, though-being a mother was hard, and sometimes men just don't cut it to look after children all by themselves. There are two main problems. 

The three of you was one, whereby if one wanted to go to the bathroom, someone had to accompany the other, leaving one person behind to look after the drinks. That wasn't much of a problem. It was this club that was the problem. One of the high-class clubs in Tokyo. Still in shock how your friend had gotten in this club in the first place. You were surrounded by strangers, awaiting the return of your two friends from the toilet. As much as you hated to say it, you did feel frightened, the men in the club were so intimidating, they were considerably older than you, really old, more than likely there for the female strippers and waitress. Not to mention, of course. the group of men on the second level, overlooking everyone at the club. Counting them, you count eight; even from down below at the bar, you could tell just by those suits that they were probably the most powerful people here. You turned your back to the scene of people, swiveling in your chair to face the bar, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as your eyes warily watched the drinks to make sure no one put anything in them. Absent-mindedly, you swirled the drink in your hand, you hadn't had one sip, and you really didn't want to-you were too worried something might happen if you were to take a sip of the alcohol. You didn't know that this is a club owned by none other than Bonten, Japan's most feared criminal organization. More specifically, you caught the eye of one of their most dangerous members, number two, Sanzu Haruchiyo. Sanzu had moved off the red velvet couch, now leaning across the glass railing, a joint sitting in between his lips, looking down at you. Of course, you had caught his, no one dares to look up toward where the members of Bonten are. Also, he wanted to distance himself from Ran, who was on the verge of borderline fucking one of the waitresses. His eyes glint dangerously in the low light of the club, already plotting a next move as he watches you sit there, all alone, your gaze darting anxiously around. A wicked curve of his lips greets this view. "You're staring too hard, Sanzu," Ran Haitani teases, lips pulling away from the blonde he was making out with. Rindou snickers, taking a sip from his drink. "Think she's gonna run if she notices you?"

Kokonoi let a laugh fall out his lips, his head tilted to the side, and he placed his ankle over his other knee. "Agreed, Rindou." Sanzu barely spares them a glance, eyes never leaving you. "She's not going anywhere," he mutters. "She's mine." Ran, Rindou and Kokonoi share a knowing look between them. They have, after all, seen Sanzu take an interest in people like this before. but something feels off tonight. They can feel it in the way Sanzu's acting. And before they could utter another word, Sanzu pushed off the railing and strolled down the stairs from their longue. The crowd didn't part for him, rather, they knew that if they were in his way, they would die. Right there and then. And so the people made sure to move whenever he was close. You feel someone approach, glance up, and your heart skips a beat as your eyes meet his. Much taller than you had guessed, pink hair tousled in a messy manner, and a scar cutting across his lips-he looks so familiar, yet you can't seem to recall where you've seen him. His gaze pins you in place, hypnotizing blue eyes amidst his scars-he was beautiful, if anything, they added to his beauty. "You're sitting here all alone?" His voice is smooth that runs a shiver down your spine. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting against your ear as he adds, "That's a little dangerous, don't you think?" You swallow hard, unsure if intimidated is the feeling you're supposed to have. "My friends... they went to the bathroom," you manage to get out, your voice little more than a whisper over the music. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Lucky for you, I'm here now." Sanzu's lips pull into a slow smirk. His eyes flick to the empty seats around you before landing back onto you. "And you think they'll be back for you soon?" You hesitate, taken aback by his question. He sounds playful, but there's something... 

"I.. I'm sure they'll be back any minute." "Mm," he hums, straightening slightly. His hand reaches out and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers linger for just a moment too long. "It's funny how people tend to disappear in places like this, isn't it?" You feel a tiny tremor of fear quiver through you, but it's drowned out by the way his fingers trail down the side of your neck, featherlight. Your skin tingles under his touch. His smile widens to see the hitch in your breath. 

"Relax," he whispers, though the way he spoke does little to settle your nervousness. "I'm not here to scare you." He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing only slightly, scanning your face. "I'm here to keep you company. Seems like you could use some, don't you think?"

Your heart pounds in your chest, and the look he's giving you -a predator with a mouse- makes it hard to think of anything but him. "I... I'm fine," you say, though it comes out far more uncertain than you hoped. "Really." "Fine?" He chuckles low. "Sitting all alone in a place like this, surrounded by strangers?" He leans in closer again, his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, his voice drops to an almost seductive whisper. "Seems like you're anything but fine." His proximity sends your mind reeling. His hand is warm, laid lightly on your knee under the table. You can hardly breathe, let alone find words with which to reply. "Lucky for you, I'm here," he adds, his voice teasing. His hand slides up your leg a little movement, tiny enough to catch your breath. You watch him, not knowing what to say, but before words can leave your lips, his other hand delicately tugs on your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. 

"You don't seem like the type to be left behind. So, either your friends don't know what they've got." His thumb brushes your lower lip, lingering as his eyes turn dark. "Or maybe they're not coming back at all."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, and your breath catches as his eyes darken, sending the fire of heat coursing through you. You say nothing, not because you don't want to, but under the piercing weight of his gaze, the words die in your throat. There's just something in the way he looks at you... Sanzu's smile deepens at the silence. 

Not breaking his stare, he rises from his seat, his hand still clasping your chin lightly before his fingers trail down to take your hand. The touch is warm. He draws you slowly, deliberately to your feet. Nearly sated, you move instinctively as he guides you toward the dance floor. He doesn't stop until you're deep in the crowd. As soon as you are in the middle of the floor, he turns you around and moves your back flush against his chest. His arms slide around your waist, and instantly, your breath catches in your throat. You feel the heat of his body seep into yours as the crowd around you feels like a blur. Sanzu's head dips down as the warmth of his breath dances across the back of your neck, his lips close to your skin. "See?" he whispers, barely audible amongst the music. "Much better than sitting alone." Sanzu's hold on you tightens, his body pressing harder against yours, guiding your movements. His hands slide down your sides, lingering at your hips before pulling you even closer. You can feel the hard lines of his chest against your back, the heat in his breath as he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You like this, don't you?" he says low, dripping with seduction. "The attention. The way I'm touching you."

Sanzu's hand leaves your waist, quickly moving into the small pocket on his purple waistcoat, pulling out a red and white pill before quickly putting it into his mouth, and swallowing the drug. You saw, you noticed, but you didn't say anything, you just thought it was an ibuprofen. 

Sanzu could've collapsed in pleasure right there and then. He might just go crazy over the euphoric feeling. And he knows that once he has you underneath him, that feeling will only grow stronger. 

You looked so gorgeous in front of him, your back pressed flush against his chest, the way your body fit so so so perfectly against his own. You are so perfect, so innocent, something he wants to taint, he wants to break you. He wants to put you on a level to which you wouldn't be able to live without him, so that you would have to rely on him for every minuscule task in your life. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your skin abraded where his hands roam. Yet with the growing heat of the two bodies, your mind is unable to think straight. You shouldn't want this, not from a stranger, not in a place like this. Yet there is something about the way his body fits up against yours, something so headily dangerous, so alluring about him that makes rational thought impossible. His fingers dig into your hips, pressing closer until your back arches a little. Every shift of your body against his feels deliberate, teasing, as if he's testing just how far you're willing to go. His lips now graze the side of your neck, barely touching but enough to send a shockwave of desire through you. "Tell me," he whispers, his lips lightly grazing your skin. "Do you want me to stop?" Your lips part, but the words won't come out. You can't deny what your body does when he does this to you when a single touch from his fingers sets off a firework of nerves. His waistline cinches tighter against your body, and you feel him smile against your neck. "I'll take that as a no," he murmurs, the humour dripping like honey from his voice. His hands slip lower, barely, but the fingers stroke the hem of your dress in passing, spiking your pulse. All that matters is the press of his body against yours, the hands claiming you. "Come home with me," he repeats, his hot words against making butterflies swell up in your body. His hands trace slow, burning paths down your sides, his touch firing something deep inside. Your mind is racing, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You turn your head slightly, catching his gaze from the corner of your eye, his blue eyes, eyes whose pupils were so dilated, as if he was going into a frenzy. What was that pill he took? "Okay," you whisper, barely audible, but it's enough. "But..."

"Mmmm, Doll?" he questions, hands tightening on your body. 

"What was the pill you took? You are okay? R-Right?" you ask timidly.

Sanzu lowers his head closer to your neck, arms wrapping around your front like he is hugging you. "It was nothing, Baby," he reassured, arms tightening but it wasn't painful, in fact, it was quite relaxing and it felt... nice. "Promise you I'm alllllll good, I ain't crazy, baby."

If only you knew how much of a crazy and sadistic bastard he was before you said yes to going home with him. 

"You're... sure?" you ask softly.

"Of course, Doll."

You chew on your bottom lip. "Then... It won't be a problem."

Sanzu smirks, his hand coming up to your jaw, tilting your head back so you're looking up at him. "Good girl," he murmurs in a low tone, his pet name making your throat go dry, you hadn't ever been called... that before. His thumb runs across your bottom lip again before he leans down, his lips brushing against yours, teasingly close but not quite giving in. He pulls you from the dance floor in dead silence, the firm wrap of his hand around yours. There is no asking for permission. There is simply no need to. 

You are his now. 

And there's no going back.

You won't escape him now, you had a chance to say no, for him to leave you alone, but your naive self said yes.

How stupid you were.

As Sanzu guides you out of the club, you don't see it but Sanzu did, the way that his elder brother and the Haitani twins look down at him as he escorted you out of the club. Takeomi's facial expression... he didn't know how to deal with his younger brother, Haruchiyo was an adult so he could do as he pleases, but what he does with drugs and women... He just didn't know how to stop it.

You shivered slightly in the cold air the moment you stepped outside, your arms moving to cross themselves, your hands rubbing your upper arms, wanting to relieve the ice-like air, to soothe the goosebumps that rose over your skin. Almost a second later, you felt a soft, satin-like garment dropping over your shoulders. 

Looking up to your side, you see that Sanzu has placed his suit jacket over you, for the obvious, to keep you warm. Your cheeks flush pink as your eyes meet with his. "Thank you," you say timidly and a ghost of a kiss is what he places on the side of your head.

"No need to thank me, doll," he murmurs agasint your hair as he guides you to the parking lot.

A sleek black car parked in front of you and you knew that it was an expensive, really low-slung sports car, a black one with dark red accents. Your eyes widen when you see the brand, pointing to the emblem. "I know that one! Ferrari!" you say with a smile, looking up to Sanzu.

(that's just what I would do in that situation bc my ass is childish asf)

"Close, baby," Sanzu hums, a chuckle reverberating in his chest. You are cute, so so so cute, he can't wait to mend you in his own little toy. "It's Bugatti."

"Oh," you reply shortly, a pout on your lips.

You were so cute that he could almost kill you.

Almost.  He walks you toward the car, his hand never leaving yours. He lets go only to open the passenger door for you; his eyes flick up to meet yours as he does. There's a subtle shift in his expression, but you don't know what it is. 

You do know, however, that you were too curious to stay away.  "Get in," he says quietly, squeezing your waist underneath his jacket to which your hands were holding onto. You pause for a moment, then slide into the plush leather seat. Sleek inside as out, black leather, polished chrome, a scent of cologne, his cologne. Everything about his car screamed rich, and his suit, and his cologne. Everything. You wondered how someone as rich as him... how he managed to be captivated by innocent, timid you.

Sanzu closes the door for you, watching you trail your hands over the sides of the seat curiously and in awe. He circles the car and slips into the driver's seat. He says nothing and merely starts the engine, a growl reverberating throughout the vehicle, the vibrations shaking through you. You gaze out at the street as you pull out onto it, your eyes straying to Sanzu's hands easily on the steering wheel. It isn't until you glance down, though, that you catch something, the clench on the clutch is just a fraction too tight, his knuckles white against it. 

You wondered why he was doing so.

Why Sanzu was doing so? he is restraining himself from taking you right there and then, forcing himself to pay attention to the road and not how much of your thighs are exposed from your short dress. Every so often, you glance over at the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips press into a thin line as he shifts gears. He was so beautiful. Your eyes widened when you realised something, you didn't even know his name. "I'm so sorry, but I don't even know your name."

"Sanzu Haruchiyo, Doll," he replies, your gaze flickers down to the clutch, noticing the grip loosening before tightening.

"Sanzu... Haruchiyo.... Ooo, Haru." you reply, testing the name out of your tongue, adding the nickname at the end unintentionally.

You missed the way Sanzu's tongue rolled over his teeth in his mouth, how the bob of his Adam's apple was so evident. His grip becomes tighter on the wheel and on the clutch, as he changes gears once more. The way you said his name made him crazy, and the cutesy nickname you added wasn't making it any better. 

The longer you sit in the car, the longer you feel a pull, a connection between the two of you as he drives through the city. Before you knew it, he pulls up in front of a building that screamed luxury.

Sanzu parks the car and gets out wordlessly, walking around to open the door for him once again. His hand extends to you, and you take it, stepping out and looking up in awe at the towering penthouse above.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list

HONEY'S NOTE :: if this flops im going to neck

[organicxslime]

☆how they bagged you (gojo, geto, nanami, toji)☆

「GOJO」 wriggled his way into your heart with the power of sweets. He figured out pretty early on that you had a sweet tooth as rotten as he did, so he used it to his advantage, inviting you to try out new cafes and bakeries that cropped up in cities where he was going on missions. Each time you'd accompany him to one of these establishments, he'd promptly show off, flashing a platinum bank card that sounded an expensive, metallic clang as he tossed it on the counter, buying quite literally every single dessert you had your eye on with no regard for the cost. He's fairly certain he accidentally spent $400 in a single bakery once. He finally bagged you by taking you to an upscale cafe and having the waitress bring out the fluffiest, most intricately decorated cake they could possibly produce, looping cursive on the top spelling out “will you be my girlfriend?"

(In all honesty, you don't have enough room in your stomach for the sheer amount of sweets that he buys you, but his students certainly enjoy it when you slip them whatever mountain of dessert you have left over.)

「GETO」 gently coaxes you into loving him with his sweet, quiet voice and honeyed words. He noticed within a few weeks of meeting you that you seemed to stand at rapt attention whenever he spoke, and it didn’t take a genius to know that you liked his voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like this - there had been others before who complimented his voice, saying he had a soft, kind tone that was pleasant to listen to - and he knew he could use it to his advantage. He intentionally makes himself sound quieter and more agreeable when he speaks to you, lovingly praising you and complimenting you for the smallest of things. you can’t help but swoon each time he greets you in that lyrical tone, and when he finally asks you on a date , you melt at how hopeful and sweet his voice sounds.

(later, when that same voice is murmuring filthy things into your ear, you’ll be silently reaffirming to yourself that he was absolutely the right choice.)

「NANAMI」 won you over by being the perfect gentleman. He's not one for dirty tricks or flashy displays of affection - he finds these things repulsive. No, he's going to take a much more classic route with it. It starts with little things - a shared smile here and there, complimenting you often, and making sure to stop by and greet vou everv morning at work. From there, he'll graduate to more direct methods, like inviting you to dinner and remembering your exact coffee order to surprise vou with the next morning. As your bond grows, so do his advances, and he finds himself arriving to work an hour early to slip sweet hand-written notes into our desk. Eventually he surprises you with a bouquet of red roses, chastely asking you out on a date, and you're so smitten you can't imagine a world where you would say no.

(You like his methods, but in all fairness he could have taken you on a date to a 7/11 and you still would've been drooling over him afterwards. For the sake of your standards, though, the romantic gestures were entirely necessary.)

「TOJI」 snaked his way into your heart by shamelessly using his body. You were gym buddies, and he had noticed before how your eyes lingered on his body, watching beads of sweat roll off of his glistening pecs and paying particularly close attention to the way his back flexed when he would lift. He began teasing you, making you sit on his toned back as he did pushups, giving you a front row seat to every contraction of his rolling muscles. He'd have you help him tape up for support, too - smoothing the athletic tape over his thick legs and reaching around his basketball-sized biceps to bind up his elbows drove you absolutely wild. At one point, you're pressing his feet to the floor while he does sit-ups, and all of a sudden he leans up further than ever before, leaning into your face and catching you by the lips. Amused, you ask him what that was for, and he says he'll explain himself - but only if you'll let him take you out to dinner.

(You knew damn well what he was up to - but you're just as depraved as he is, and knew a solid opportunity to feel up on a buff man when you saw it. You're so down bad you didn't even care that he asked you to pay for dinner.)

[eternalchaoschocolaterain]

The Most Powerful Waitress

Chapter four

Chapter one: School's out

Chapter two: I'd hire me

Chapter three: No cure for me

Chapter five: Patience

Chapter six: I don't know

Chapter seven (final chapter): No one knows

Rinse and repeat

It hadn’t taken Merula long to find a new job. The accidental magic reversal squad was desperate for new recruits, which should have been her first sign to run. Even if she’d only worked there for a few hours, it had been a nightmare. Cleaning up after people who did stupid things was not the job for her. She should’ve known, instead of getting sacked for the second time. What a start to her career.

She paced around her house, unable to sit down. What the fuck was she supposed to do now? Every other job sounded more boring than the next, but without a job she couldn’t build experience, couldn’t show people her capabilities. What other jobs were out there that she hadn't thought of yet? She paused. What other jobs <i>were</i> out there? She went into the library, there had to be something here that could help her. Her library had never let her down before.

The library was her favourite room. Despite its size it still managed to feel cozy, with the fireplace casting a red glow on everything and the smell of books. Three of the walls were lined with blue bookshelves and the other had a large fireplace with the best sofa she ever sat in. The thing was light blue, soft, large and square, making it so she had room to stretch out any way she liked. There were pillows in all shapes and sizes, so she could be comfortable in any position. She pulled out some books for inspiration and stretched out.

Accountant? Yeah never. Pouring over numbers all day sounded dreadful. What could be worse than filling other people’s taxes? She’d rather go back to the reversal squad. Architect? She had never been interested in buildings, but having her name on one did sound good. As she progressed through the books, she noted the jobs that did sound interesting: auror, duelling champion, potioneer, researcher at the department of mysteries. Maybe even curse-breaker after all. Or maybe even a desk job. Surely there had to be paperwork that mattered?

‘Ru, you’re not going to believe this.’

Merula sat up when she heard Quinn, who had been out all day. She’d met up with Haywood in Diagon Alley, so Merula expected to hear all kinds of gossip when she got back. But Quinn’s face was a mixture of emotions she didn’t expect to see if this was solely about gossip. She rearranged her books and notes, allowing Quinn room to sit next to her.

‘What?’

‘I found a place, or Pen did. She asked me if I had a house yet and when she heard I didn’t, she came with this one.’

Her eyes widened. Even though she didn’t know what to guess, this hadn’t crossed her mind. She scrambled for a response, but all that came out was, ‘Oh’.

‘I mean it’s perfect.’ Quinn’s eyes gleamed as she spoke.

Normally Merula would’ve found this sweet, but right now it was all she could do not to snap. But she didn’t, because after all, not moving in together yet had been her idea.

‘It’s this little studio in a side street of Diagon Alley, I’ll be in the middle of everything! And it’s quite cheap because it’s so small. But I still can’t afford it right now, I only had enough for the deposit. I tried to tell Pen that I still don’t know when I’ll start working, but you know how she is. She paid the first month rent and insists she will pay more until I can pay her back. She’s going to help me move in tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?!’

‘Yes and Andre is coming too, we bumped into him running an errand. He wants to get me curtains and needs to measure the windows. And-’

‘Wait, let me guess, house warming party on Saturday?’ Merula couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. This went waaay to fast. She’d never expected Quinn to find a house the first day she went back to real life. In her mind Quinn would’ve taken a few weeks at least to find something. She crossed her arms in a huff. ‘You could’ve just left if you wanted to get away from me so bad.’

‘What are you getting at? Not moving in yet was your idea. You said you needed your space.’

‘I’m not making you move out right now! You can take months, I don’t care.’

She wouldn’t have minded. This whole vacation had gone better than she could’ve imagined. She’d worried Quinn would’ve wanted to spend every second together, which she did, but she hadn’t complained once about Merula’s need for time alone. Which to Merula’s surprise she hadn’t needed as much of as she thought. Reading together in silence worked as well as reading alone. They had a few arguments, mostly in the morning, but nothing serious.

Mornings turned out to be much better together. Waking up with cuddles and having nice breakfasts made for a great start of the day. Being together had been the best anyway. This whole time they’d been able to cuddle, kiss and everything else whenever they wanted. No one to look out for or having to be worried about being interrupted. They’d have to schedule time for that now, starting tomorrow apparently!

‘You’re just in a hurry to leave me!’

‘I’m not! I would stay if you asked.’

‘I’m not going to beg you to stay. I don’t need you.’ Merula spat. ‘Just go and have fun with your friends.’

‘Fine.’ Quinn’s voice had gotten soft and low and Merula knew she hurt her. But at the moment she didn’t care. She wasn’t the one that had decided to leave! ‘I guess I’ll go tell Pen that we can have the housewarming this weekend.’ Quinn got up and sped out of the library.

Of course something like this would happen. She should have known, nothing good ever lasted. Let Quinn tell Haywood to have that stupid party, but they better not invite her!

Wait.

She got up and hurried to her bedroom. Quinn’s trunk laid open on the bed and Quinn stood next to it, gesturing at the large wardrobe. Clothes flew out, folding themselves on top of each other. She raised her eyebrow at Merula for a moment, but kept her focus on her clothes. Merula leaned against the doorpost and watched her. Despite her conflicting emotions, she couldn’t help but marvel at Quinn’s seemingly effortless use of both wandless and non-verbal magic. She’d taught her well.

‘There's no housewarming party this weekend?’

‘Give me a moment and there will be.’

‘I thought you’d have one.’

‘I will, but I wanted to do it next weekend. I wanted to spent time with you, but I guess you did get tired of me.’ She kept gesturing at her clothes.

‘I didn’t.’ Quinn gave her an expectant look and Merula sighed. ‘I want to spent time with you too.’

She finally stopped moving her clothes. ‘You know, this is fast for me too. But I’m not passing up on a perfect studio just because it’s fast. Besides Penny wouldn’t let me anyway.’ Quinn smirked a little and Merula rolled her eyes.

‘Typical Haywood.’ They were both silent for a few moments. ‘So, uh, you still want to come over?’

‘Yes!’ Quinn came over and hugged her tight. ‘I love spending time with you.’

‘Good.’ Merula hugged her back. It would take time to get used to this new reality. Outside of the summer vacations they’d seen each other every day for the past seven years. Every day! Now they would have to plan. She nuzzled Quinn’s neck, comforted by her familiar forestry smell, with hints of juniper and pine. It would be fine, things would be fine. They could plan. It wouldn’t change things, wouldn’t change them.

Quinn kissed the side of her face. ‘So, how was your day?’

‘It sucked. I need a new job.’

‘What went wrong with this one?’

‘People are dumb, that’s what went wrong.’ Her frustrations about the day resurfaced with a force and she let go of Quinn so she could fall backwards on her bed. ‘The reversal squad is all about cleaning up after dumb people doing dumb things and having to pretend it’s fine. It’s just a mistake. This can happen to anyone.’ Merula buried herself deeper into her bed with a groan. ‘I tried to be nice about it, but then we answered this call about a young man getting himself splinched.’

Of course it had to be Barnaby. He had been trying to get his apparition license. All he had left to do was to apparate from a field near the Forbidden Forest to the other side of Hogsmeade. Something he should have been capable of, but he failed because he saw a hippogriff flying over the forest. ‘A really pretty one!’ According to him. That unbelievable oaf got himself splinched over a hippogriff and ruined his exam. She hadn’t minced words when she saw him, because he should have done better. But her supervisor and Barnaby had for some reason decided she was rude and insulting, like it was her fault Barnaby had been as stupid as he had! But since she was so ‘difficult and rude’ she couldn’t be worked with and had to leave. Well, it wasn’t like she had enjoyed any second of that job, so good riddance to them!

‘Is Barnaby okay?’ Quinn asked when she finished. She had joined Merula on the bed, sitting cross-legged against the headboard.

‘Of course he is. They found his ear and toes and reattached them. He’s fine.’

‘Oh, good!’

They were silent for a moment and Merula decided to summon her notes. ‘I was actually doing research when you came in.’

Quinn looked them over. ‘Are you going to try any of these jobs?’

‘Of course, I’m not giving up. It’s just, I don’t know which one yet. I mean, I know I want something exciting. Can you imagine anything worse than being stuck with a boring job? These jobs sounded okay to me, but I don’t know. What do you think?’

‘I think you might make a great duellist. You’re fast, very brave and you pick up new things in a flash.’

‘I do like a good battle.’

A ticking noise sounded from the window before either of them could say something else. A long-eared owl perched on the window sill and continued tapping until Quinn opened the window. At the same time, Merula summoned the bowl of snacks she had for the owls that delivered the paper and brought it over.

‘It’s for me.’ Quinn sounded surprised when she took the letter. ‘And it’s blank.’

‘Let me see.’ Merula turned it around and cast a few spells, but the parchment remained blank. ‘Do you think someone is pranking you?’

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t even have a name- wait, look!’

Words appeared on the backside of the letter.

I can fill up a room and take no space. When I’m gone darkness takes my place.

‘A riddle, and a really easy one too.’ Quinn frowned, took the letter back and cast lumos on the parchment. Next moment dark blue ink appeared on the letter.

Dear Quinn Lee,

Your first day is tomorrow. Report to the ministry at half-past nine o’clock.

‘That’s it?’ She turned the letter around and shone the light there to no avail. ‘I still don’t know anything. Report to the ministry? Do they realise how big- Fuck!’ The letter went up in flames and Quinn flapped her hands around.

‘Come sit.’ Merula gestured at the bed and went to get burn-healing paste. She massaged Quinn’s hands when she applied it.

‘Thanks.’

‘So, tomorrow.’

‘Apparently, except I still don’t know where to go, or who to meet, or what I’ll be doing.’ Quinn pursed her lips. Then she perked up. ‘I’m going to make us a nice dinner.’

She got up so fast that her circle skirt twirled around her legs. Merula let her go and waited a bit before following her into the kitchen, giving Quinn a moment to gather herself and push any sort of anger or frustration down. Not that Merula would mind seeing Quinn like that. If you asked her, anger was a perfectly healthy outlet for frustration or just about any other feeling. Sometimes the world deserved to be set on fire. For some reason though, Quinn didn’t like being angry, especially not about things she couldn’t change. Or thought she couldn’t change, like this job. From what Quinn told her Moody and Dumbledore had arranged this job for her, expecting her to be grateful about it. Even though they never asked for her opinion. Merula couldn’t understand why Quinn worried more about disappointing them than having a job she wanted, but she thought getting angry was useless and she’d rather be happy. Whatever worked for her.

When she thought enough time had passed, she went to the kitchen. It had pink quartz countertops atop white cabinets running along two walls and a white sink underneath the window overlooking the garden. The table in the middle and its chairs matched the colour scheme, as did the stove that was built into the other wall. Her dad had done the kitchen and while Merula liked pink, this was too much. She’d thought about changing it numerous times and told herself to just take some time to at least try out some new colours, but for some reason she never did.

Quinn stood by the window, kneading some dough with such force that her ponytail swung from side to side. The muscles in her arms tensed as she pressed into the dough and folded it over and over. Merula walked over and put her arm around Quinn’s waist.

‘Fresh pasta?’

Quinn hummed an agreement.

‘Hey,’ Merula gently bumped her hip, ‘you’ll do fine tomorrow. You are the second most powerful witch, they are the ones who should feel honoured to get to work with you, not the other way around.’

‘I just wish I knew more about it. I don’t know what am I going to do, or where. I mean, do they even want me or did they get as much choice as I did?’

Ah, so that was her real issue. She should’ve known. ‘Oh please, everyone always loves you, where-ever you go. They might not know it yet, but they’re going to love you. It’s one of those annoying things about you.’

The corners of Quinn’s lips turned up a little. ‘You think so?’

‘No, I know so.’

‘Thanks.’

Quinn turned and gave her a quick kiss, which reminded Merula.

‘You forgot to greet me with a kiss today.’

A mischievous smile spread on Quinn’s face. ‘I did, didn’t I? I was hoping you forgot about it.’

‘Cheeky. I’ll keep that in mind when I think about a way you can make it up to me.’ She gave her another kiss before letting go to sit at the table.

Quinn resumed working on her dough. ‘What are you going to do tomorrow?’

‘Find a new job.’

If only this one would stick. For the first time she felt a little uncertain. This was supposed to be the easy part, but it didn’t feel easy right now. She pushed the feeling down, she was a Snyde. Snydes always bounced back. So what if she had a little trouble, nothing was too big for her. She could do this. Maybe she’d try the dreaded desk job. As long as they didn’t make her clean up other people’s messes it couldn’t be as bad as the reversal squad. Might as well try something new, until she figured out what she wanted. She could start at the ministry, plenty of desk jobs there. Knowing herself it would be mere hours before she had a new job, she could be quite convincing if she wanted to. It would be fine.

[almondmilkcleanser]

”𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘺, 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳?” — GETO

“𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐑”

■ ` ♡ characters / fandom ; f!reader x geto suguru

■ ` ♡ tw ; begging ; dominance ; dirty talk ; cumming inside + more ;MINORS DNI

■ ` ♡ word count ; 3k+

He knew your family’s apprehensions with jujutsu sorcerers but you didn't care. You wanted to maintain this friendship because the bond you and him shared was valuable. Inseparable. You didnt care what would happen in the future because when your doubts circulated in your head, you went back to that fateful day at the grocery store when you two met.

“Hm, my name’s Geto. Yours?”

”Ah!” You blushed. “Y/N.” You suddenly remembered how to speak a comprehensible language as you picked up the grapes you spilled on the floor running into him,

”Y/N. Yes, that’s it.”

A friendship is what you valued the most. But sooner than later, other feelings began to surface for Geto.

—

“Ahhhh, exams are so annoying!” You threw your hands down in defeat. Rocking yourself back and forth on the swings, you began to vent about all the studying you had to do in preparation for the next semester of college. Geto sat there, attentive to you as he popped his light blue popsicle in his mouth.

“I’m sure you’re going to do well on the exams. You always study hard. Harder than I ever will, to be quite honest.”

”Geto!” You protested. “That’s no fair. Yes you don’t have to book study but you can,” you lowered your voice into a whisper as you frantically waved your arms and hands in a ghostly manner.

“You know! You know? That. You can do that.” You crossed your arms and looked off at a couple walking down the sidewalk. The girl had her arm linked in the guy’s as they happily shared their food together. The guy brushed the girl’s hair out of her face and kissed her on the forehead, instantly making the girl blush.

Somberly, you looked down, kicking a stray rock out the way as you clenched the chains of the swing. When you looked up, Geto was staring directly at you, the popsicle’s juices streaming down his hand and down his wrist.

You broke the stare-off with a blush but Geto broke the silence.

”You don’t want this power. Trust me.”

”What do you-“ before you could finish your sentence, the chains of the swing rattled, signifying Geto getting up to walk away.

”I’m leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same place as Monday.”

Verbally you didn’t respond but you kept a mental note for yourself.

Suddenly, tinge of bravery snuck up your spine. You pulled out your phone and text Geto:

Let’s meet at the Bread Bun cafe for sweets.

You knew this was a hotspot for couples, but you thought that a little friend date wouldn’t hurt anything.

A few seconds passed, and Geto replied with a thumbs up.

”Ah! Yes!” You cheered so loud that you scared a nearby cat, causing it to hiss and scatter away.

—

You were more dressed up than usual today. Nervously, you re-applied your lipgloss as you waited for Geto to decide what he wanted from the Cafe. The waitress nervously circled back and forth to your table for 30 minutes before deciding to give up on being persistent. If you were ready you would call them at this point.

“Hmmm, everything here sounds so… sweet.” No shit, Geto! “Do they have any soba?”

“I think they have a regular food menu, you just have to ask for it.”

Without an extra word, he raised his hand and the giddy waitress walked over with pen and pad in hand.

”Are you two ready to or-“

”I’d like something off the regular menu, please. Zara Soba, with a side of barley tea.” He handed the dumbfounded waitress his menu and looked over at you with a curious glance.

”Still not sure?” He wasn’t in a rush, but he knew you liked your pastries and chocolates. You nervously fidgeted with the menu before finally deciding.

”Just a chocolate mousse pastry puff and milk tea, please.”

Geto smirked and leaned back into his seat.

”You’re never really one to lighten up on the sweets.” He teased. “Normally you can order three of these miniature things and go back for seconds.” You scoffed at his analysis. “But, if you’re trying to lose weight that’s fine too. Doesn’t bother me either way.” And there was that reassuring smile that made your heart quiver.

“Geto-“ you tried to open your mouth to say more, but the waitress was back in no time. She placed your pastry on the table first.

”Your soba will be out in a second, it’ll just be an ext-“

”That’s fine, I’ll pay the extra. Not really a sweets person, y’know.” He looked up at the waitress with an embarrassed smile, making her blush.

You picked at your pastry bashfully, focusing elsewhere to hide your own flush.

Halfway through your pastry and ¼ of the easy through his soba, Geto cleared his throat.

”This place is very… romantic. More romantic than our usual meet up spots.” He leaned his elbow on the table and looked at you curiously.

”Finally letting go of the need to keep your parents happy?”

”That’s not it-“ You had to think of a lie quickly! “I just wanted to try this spot and none of my other friends could come with me.”

He chuckled. “So, I’m the afterthought now? Jeez and I thought we were friends-“

”That’s not it, Geto. I-“ you lowered your head, trying your best to gather the words.

“I- “

”Hm? What is it?” He was getting more and more confused by your behavior. You were fine in the beginning for months but as time went on he noticed how you fumbled over your words more, how you would blush easily, and now-

“Its just- “ you took a breath and looked into his eyes.

“There’s someone I like and I don’t know how to- you know…”

Geto’s eyes shot up.

“You don’t?-“

Was he really falling for this? You shook your head back and forth.

”No- A- and I need a guy’s advice on what to do.”

”Just fuck him. It’s not that hard-“

”Geto! Don’t be so loud-“ you whispered, eyes darting back and forth to make sure nobody heard you.

He leaned back into his seat and eyed you curiously. His eyebrow cocked upwards and his lips curved into a small, pondering frown.

“We’re friends, right?” He couldn’t say no but he couldn’t say yes either. “Just, give me some pointers, okay? I- I really like him and I want to make a good impression.”

He twisted his lips back and forth for what felt like ages before taking a deep breath.

“Fine. Now let me finish my soba.”

”You’re paying.” He added matter of factly.

”Wah?!”

—

For the next few weeks, you and Geto would bounce ideas and tips off eachother on what to do, how to approach a guy, how to flirt, cooking tips, the list goes on and on. Geto would ask from time to time when he would meet this mystery guy but you found an excuse every time.

You took a bolder approach, inviting him to public libraries and even back to your house a few times. He would show you how to cook a few meals and you even modeled a few outfits for him. A lot which… he thought were lackluster at best.

But you didn’t care. You spent more intimate time with Geto that you secretly craved. So much, that you decided to take it a step further.

Knock knock knock!

You opened the tower in your robe, still dabbing your hair dry with a spare towel. Geto stood there, eyebrows raised at your casual appearance.

“Should I wait outs-“

”Don’t be stupid, Geto. Come in.”

He kicked off his shoes, flopped on the couch and stretched his limbs, still eyeing you behind your back as you shuffled back into the kitchen. He sniffed the air, feeling saliva pool in his mouth.

”What are you cooking?” He asked. “It smells good.”

”Flank beef and Miso soup.”

“What’s the occasion?” You shrugged your shoulders while stirring the pot of white rice. You didn’t have much in mind, instead you motioned with your body first and decided that today would be the day you made an attempt.

An attempt at him physically showing you how to please a man.

“Geto.” You called out. “Can you come here for a second?” He was just about to turn on the TV when you called. With a sigh, he tossed the remote and walked into the kitchen.

“Try this.” You pooled some broth into your ladle and held it to his mouth. You didn’t realize how tall he was in comparison to your height! He had to hold your wrist and guide the ladle up to his lips so you don’t pour it on his collarbone!

”Its good. Add a little water to cut the salt and you’re fine.”

“Good.” You turned back to stir the pot for a few seconds before speaking up again.

”One more thing.” You started. Geto leaned against the counter with a curious look on his face. What was it that you wanted? He had to make excuses as to why he was going into town so much and everyone knew Gojo was only going to take so many of his “Negative Energy quests.”

”So.. I wanted to ask you another favor.”

”Another favor? You must want to be in debt to me forever.” You both laughed.

“Not exactly..” you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Now or never, Y/N! Now- or- never!

”I just wanted another lesson.”

”Oh?” He scratched his head and stood up straight. “What lesson?”

”Um-“ you swallowed. “I want you to show me how to please a man.”

”Me?!” He jumped back.

”Would you rather me go on a forum and find someone?!” You squeaked. “Please, Geto-“

”But what about-“

”I want to practice so I can be confident in my skills!” You blurted out, face ablaze.

”Ah- Y/N… Why don’t you try it with him then?”

”Because,” you stammered. “I really like him and I don’t want to mess up my chances with him. He’s so handsome and cool and I really enjoy spending time with him and- and-“

Geto reached forward, pulling your hand towards him.

“Sigh… Y/N. Don’t lie.” His eyes burned into yours, making you squirm. Your robe was beginning to open but he didn’t budge an inch as your chest grew more and more exposed.

”You could have just said you wanted to date me. I promise I’m not that hard to please.”

”Stupid!” You blushed, trying to break free. “How do you even think I’m talking about you?”

With a smirk, he pointed at the kitchen counter at a picture of him with a pink heart drawn around his face.

”Guh!” stupid stupid stupid!

”Well,” you looked down, wishing you could turn into liquid and evaporate from the embarrassment.

”What now?”

”Well,” he chuckled. “You wanted a lesson, here’s the first one.” And without announcement, he pulled you up by your chin and interlocked his lips with yours.

—

You were splayed out on your couch, robe open and legs positioned on Geto’s shoulders. He removed his school jacket and threw it on the floor next to your underwear to give him a full access to your begging cunt.

He suckled on your lips, motioning his tongue up and down the slit of your pink pussy. He would tease you, switching between your clit and prodding your entrance with the tip of his tongue just for him to lap his tongue across the entirety of your beautiful pussy over and over again. Your body broke out into a sweat as the riptides of pleasure cascaded through your body. You would try unsuccessfully to close your legs, just to have them opened wider by Geto. His eyes focused intently on yours as he continued to feast on you, suckling your juices dry like a starved man in the desert.

“Oh, God, Geto!” You pinched your nipples, throwing your head back and forth. You couldn’t take it, you were about to cum and you just knew he could feel it. Taking it up a notch, he guided two of his fingers inside of you, hooking down and pumping back and forth.

He didn’t break his focus on you. His tongue flicked back and forth on your clit as the pace of his fingers increased in speed. This is just what you fantasized about for months and now- and now-

“Guyahhhh!” Your squeals turned animalistic as you reached your peak. You tried to close your legs, but Geto planted both of his elbows on your legs, leaving your sticky, glistening pussy wide open for him to see. A clear stream of liquid poured down your legs and onto the couch as your climaxed surged through your body. Just when you thought it was over, Geto would graze his thumb ever so gently across your throbbing clit, making you whine out loud.

Removing his fingers from inside of you, he slurped up your viscous substance with a smile.

”What exactly did you need me to show you?” He chuckled. “By the way your pussy gets, you don’t need my help at all.”

”Sh- shut up, Geto.” Your breath was ragged and your hair was wildly splayed across your face. You attempted to get up, but Geto got between your legs again, this time planting a kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself, a mixture of sweat and your juices swimming down your throat with his tongue.

“Hold on to me.” He growled. You wrapped your arms around his neck without protest and he in turn sat where you just laid, kissing your neck and chest hungrily.

He threw your robe to the floor, caressing your hips and lower back with care as you sat on top of him, fully naked and vulnerable.

”You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Kiss. “I had a feeling you had a crush on me, but I’m glad you told me today.”

He tipped your chin upwards with his nose to give him more space to devour your neck with his lips. Leaving random love marks across the sides of your neck, the base of your neck and your collarbones. Your body was on fire but you couldn’t move. You were enmeshed onto him and didn’t want to move.

He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. It was veiny, long, and thick. You could see the pre-cum sliding down the tip of his penis and it made your mouth water.

“Are you a virgin?” He bit at your neck, making you hiss. “Don’t lie.”

”Shhh- No- I’m not.” You pulled on his shirt, massaging his muscular chest underneath his shirt.

”Take it.” You begged. You could feel his large hand massing your ass, casually slipping his thumb around the rim of your ass to keep you stimulated

“Take it, you say?” He lifted your hips up with care, guiding you down the length of his throbbing dick with a hiss and suck of his teeth.

”I’ll fucking take it. Give it to me.” He bounced you up and down, making you go deeper and deeper the more you came down on the length of his girth. Your hips and ass slapped atop his thighs as the pace increased and your body grew a mind of its own. You felt him curve at the base of your cervix but you continued to bounce, you continued to grind, you continued to please him.

You pussy creamed down the entirety of his shaft, staining the zipper of his pants but neither you or him cared. You have never been turned on by a guy like this before. Geto’s strong hands paired your hands behind your back, latching his tongue onto your nipple and suckling with passion.

He was hungry for you just like you were for him.

Your mind was mush and your body was hot. He continued to plant kisses and love bites across your body, throwing his head back at random when your pussy felt completely euphoric to him.

You two were close, especially you. Taking it upon yourself, you pulled his hair, making him look up at you. His eyes narrowed, burning an intense lust back at you, signaling for you to take control. You pushed your lips onto him, your tongues dancing back and forth as you bounced vigorously on top of him. When you were at the head of your climax, he pushed you down, keeping you there. Breaking the kiss, he growled in your ear as his seed filled you up deep.

”Fuuuuuuuck! Y/N. I didn’t think you could make me get like this.” You could pat yourself on the back for that compliment. Kissing your neck, he turned you back around so you could lay on the couch, taking off his pants and throwing them on the floor as well.

”I’m going to finish dinner,” he smoothed your hair down and out of your face, smiling in accomplishment at your flushed, fucked silly, sleepy face. You could feel his seed seeping out of you and onto the couch but you couldn’t even catch your breath. Your pussy was still throbbing from the intense session shared between you two and you were seeing stars. Did this really happen?

“And after,” he kissed your forehead again, a devilish smile spreading across his face.

”I’m going to fuck you again in your shower. I already have a doctor’s note for your job in the morning so we can fuck again in the morning.”

”You want to make a great first impression with your mystery guy, remember?”

END.

[eternalchaoschocolaterain]

Right?! It's my fave too 😁 she's hilarious

It’s amusing to me too aberforth

Seeing merula be bad at her jobs is one of my fav parts of beyond

[kiwanopie]

A Lucky Find.

Pure luck, isn’t it? (Geto Suguru x fem!sorcerer!Reader)

cw: yandere if you squint. mention of misogyny and inappropriate work place relationships, graphic descriptions of curses and body horror, death by mutilation involving a curse (Not you), mention of religion, only specifics about reader is that she’s visibly very attractive and may have long hair (no descriptors though, it could be a lace) Suguru is out of his mind. You will not be called a monkey in this one.

wc: 3.9k

You’re not a very talkative assistant.

Granted sometimes you’re inclined to wonder if talking would’ve made so much of a difference to the position you’ve been put in, but you’ve never been a particularly choosy assistant either. You’re great at handling quick business, the calls your boss can’t be bothered to take - studious in your evening planning and you can quick work a coffee run like nobody's business. — You don’t complain about the thin heels they put you in, or the pencil skirts. Mired businessmen with filthy smirks and wondering eyes, or the routine baby talk you get from your degenerate boss. You don’t blink an eye at it. - You sit when you’re told to sit and bark when Mr. Minoru decides to hold that pretty little bone over your head.

“You could use a bonus, huh?”

Today it’s a back rub.

You’re silent as your nimble fingers start to press little groves in his upper back, impassive when he groans. Mr. Minoru, your boss, is a very rich man. He’s the successor of a retired tycoon who was once the successor of another and so forth. He’s an amalgamation of power and fortune and a small legion of nepotism babies that regularly walk in through those mahogany doors just ahead of his desk. An investor, you think. Most conversations he has are about money and the best way to double it; fewer are the ones where he’s actually taking the time out of his schedule to distribute it.

It’s all elite talk. Big men following big men following a perv who believes he’s god. Long outstretched legs that extend as he relaxes himself in his seat and hopes that the movement is enough to encourage you to start on his shoulders.

You like to think you got this job out of pure luck. Met the right man at the right time and stumbled over the deal of a lifetime all for the small cost of a little bit of your dignity. — Not like it was much of a trade from your part time job busing tables at that high-end restaurant. Being yelled at by bratty celebrities at a fraction of the price and coming home smelling reminiscent of a meat locker. Now you’re standing on the top floor of a penthouse suite. Smelling of expensive perfume that your boss totally didn’t break worker/boss relation code for and looking down at the entirety of Tokyo from its bay windows.

Pure luck.

The creature hooked to the upper side of his shoulder unfastens its teeth with a firm graze of your fingers. The steam it emits as it fizzles away is sour.

Mr. Minoru has a pension for starting fights with the wrong people, it seems. With bitter people - scornful people. People who hate him and can’t do anything about it, other than wish him harm or hex him in some way. — Worst are the people who don’t hate him, who envy him. Step into his office with painted smiles and clenched teeth. Who curse his name the moment they leave and leave you to deal with these little “bugs.”

Your nose twitches as its rotten smell encombers. For a moment your pretty face is twisted up in a scowl.

The massages started from an offhand graze of your fingers during a dinner at your old job. Pretty little waitress bending over him in that little work dress and running your finger down his felted coat. You apologize for your familiarity, someone must’ve spilled something on his jacket. ~ But the weight on his back is gone from just that little touch and now he’s offering you a job. You don’t regularly make a habit of helping those you’ve already deemed “afflicted.” But the fucker making goo trails on his back at the time was just disgusting enough to hinder your train of thought, and there’s no way you could’ve gone through your shift without reviling every time you passed his table.

So, now you’re his assistant - and today it’s just a back rub. Thankfully not a request to play with his hair and try not to cringe at the way he shutters from it. A subtle pat on the cheek for his good luck kiss, or a request to sit on his lap while he tells you a story he doesn’t care if you’re listening to. Because you’re quiet.

His not talkative, non-fussy, no complaints assistant.

Like always he fills the empty air in place of your silence. “Ah. By the way, princess. We’ve got a guest coming around after lunch. A real traditional fella. So, we’ll need to be on our best behavior,”

“Apparently he’s got some sort of business opportunity for me in exchange for a few investments,” He sighs when your fingers dip a little under his collar. “Says that in his big fuckin’ haori. Probably cost a few thousand bucks,”

Mr. Minoru shifts his shoulders under your firm touches. “To be completely honest, I don’t really know about it aside from the gag of seeing him in person again. Guy has this weird energy about himself that gives me the creeps. — Says he’s avant-garde. — I just think he’s a weird fuckin’ guy.”

“But,” The exhale he lets out is tempered and whisky tinted, clears out the fresh space in his chest that usually frees up when you’ve got your hands on him. “My old man likes ‘em. Says he’d be good for my health if I kept him around. At the very least build some sorta relationship with him.”

“Too bad my health’s in tip-top shape! Eh, doll-baby?” Minoru twists his head to flash you an expensive smile. Faintly defined cheekbones turning rosy when you return it like you know you’re supposed to. “Got my little guru at my side!”

And your simper, although gentle, is forced. Distantly you wonder if you’re the reason these bugs have become so habitual.

——-

This man is very ill.

Though he walks in with his head held high and a particular spring in his step, your diagnosis is that he must be terminal. He must be diseased and irremediable. In a constant state of agony and so stricken with unwellness that he can’t even think straight. You’ve seen your fair share of “bugs” and rabid disfigured animals that grow out of their hosts like fungus. Some that trail behind like lost children with broken crackling legs - a stench that only accompanies the open wounds whose maggots reach out so helplessly. Disturbing things. For all of it you’ve seen, you’re lucky to say that those cases are few and far in between.

But this,

It has many hands and many faces.

Each accompanied by its own set of teeth. Curling lips that stutter as they rise, etched in lipstick and gum; you find mint leaves hidden in the valley of its tongue, coiling as it softly sings. Watching from afar as it hobbles on its haunches like a drunken man, or of fawn newly grazed. It is steady - and constantly moving. It buzzes like a million bees and yet the man standing next to it is seemingly unaffected.

And so are you.

Your gentility becomes you as you politely bow for the man who you’ve so gracefully led to Mr. Minoru’s office. A practiced curtsy is usually enough to get your usual guests commenting under their nose at your bosses taste in assistant’s, but this man is quiet as he walks past you. So above your head that it almost feels like he doesn’t even know you exist. And that feeling is… off putting to say the least.

You close the door behind him as your boss starts on introductions.

“Ah, so you’ve met my beautiful assistant!” He reaches out his hand. “Minoru. Nice to meet you.”

The genuinity in the man’s smile fastens his eyes into slits as he steps forward to return the shake. “Geto, likewise.”

“Geto, huh? I heard the old man sent you for an investment proposition. My guess is it’s something… traditional?” Minoru gestures toward his garbs.

He’s somewhat clinical in his attempt to look lighthearted, but the sigh he blows out feels trusting. “So this isn’t selling “contemporary” huh?”

Minoru laughs and the thing beside him whimpers.

Your fingers twitch against your work skirt.

You’re a distant shadow lingering behind the conversing men as you step to your post on the far side of the office wall, heels clicking quietly when you bend to fix yourself adjacent to Mr. Minoru’s desk. — You’re not expected to listen much to the conversation, or even understand the matters on which they talk about. Just straighten your back when your boss snaps his fingers and follow obediently when he coos an order.

But even if that weren’t the case, you’d say it’d be hard to pay any attention to anything other than whatever the fuck that is hunched beside the man standing just a few feet away. Singing quietly under its breath and repeating the tune like a prayer. Fearful, shaken, pleaful, dread inducing; overlapping in its many mouths. Your fingernails quietly scrape against each other in your attempt to remain neutral but from a keen eye you’re jarred. Disquietingly moving your eyes from the two men still talking adjacent from you and then it again.

It’s looking at you.

You force down a swallow when Minoru calls your name.

“Quiet thing, isn’t she?” Your boss comments amidst the conversation as you approach them. “Could almost forget she’s here if it weren’t for the eyecandy,”

You smile at him like he’s flattering you but it’s muscle memory. “Sir?”

“Gather up those papers from your desk over there, sweetpea. And hand it to the nice man.”

You almost don’t even wanna turn your back on it.

But against your own anxieties you do as you're told. Even with your nerves frayed as they are. You keep your posture as you hastily skirt to your desk and back across the room again. Nimble, slightly shaken fingers lowering to place it in Geto-san’s hand but he doesn’t acknowledge you even when you smile. Vacant eyes. Bored of you already. —- You don’t know if you should feel more offended or alarmed. But in your curtsy before backing away you decide to split the difference and go for disturbed.

Avant-garde. This guy just gives you the fuckin’ creeps.

He works in health, apparently. From what you’ve gathered in the continuing conversation, he’s a spiritual man who offers health by spiritual means. It’s not a very groundbreaking admission, especially from a man in traditional garb, but he assures that his practices have long surpassed ground theory and have been proven to guarantee actual results. From refractory diseases, mental illness, visible injury; his methods could completely eradicate the need for traditional medicine and take the health industry by storm.

But money is a long factor, longer in the doubtful and non-spiritual. “Non-worthy.” It sounds pointed the way he slips that in, but your red flags aren’t shared with your less than convinced boss.

“Spiritual healing sounds great and all, Geto buddy. But you’re directing services to a pretty biased market.” Minoru crosses one of his legs over the other from his perched position against his desk. “Even with the facts, the money’s in objectivity. You’d get more bang for your buck just saying any Yamada worth his salt can walk in and get rid a’ his sniffles for the right price. - Religion ‘ll just turn people off.”

Geto smiles patiently. “Ah, Minoru-san, we’re not religion based. Religion promotes powerlessness. Our services come from practical people.”

You watch as the creature messily swivels on its crooked legs when he invades its space by leaning back a little. “But to insert certain biases kind of sweetens the deal, doesn’t it? People like things that make them feel special. Even the most useless people should wanna prove themselves in some way, right?”

What a crooked way of thinking.

At your quiet displeasure the mass behind Geto wheezes painfully, wincing when you lock eyes with it. Its song pitches and warbles, chops a little like it’s weeping; but even in its effort to resume its discontent is palpable.

You could almost feel acknowledged by it. By its wandering eyes and its tightened misshapen shoulders. Almost as off put as you are from its spot in the middle of the room. The more you look at it, the more it starts to evoke pity. Even in its unsightliness, it looks misplaced and afraid. - Its song breaks like a cry for mercy and the closer you look at it the more recognizable its purpose becomes.

There are knots in its balmy skin so engorged they bleed and tear. Fabric mincing over fictional scabbing and prayer beads hanging out of its gashes. Every twitch it makes reverberates ricey out of rhythm beats akin to maracas and its song, as out of key as it is, is reverential. Powerlessness. Anodyne through faith. You barely find yourself pitying the afflictions of affected people but in the context of this conversation - it’s watering eyes; you feel empathetic toward this thing and by extension Geto-san.

You assume something awful must’ve started that way of thinking.

Should you even stick your neck out for this guy? You’ve dealt with bigger, more violent ones in any case. But this creature seems peaceful. Following faithfully on its hosts haunches as it waits patiently beside him. You’ll have to be fast and unflashy about it, hopefully the stench from that thing won’t make you hurl on impulse. But if not out of mercy, it would be nice to have it out of your line of vision.

Your eyes cross it again. It’s many eyes well with anguish. You decide that at your next opportunity you’ll get rid of it promptly.

As luck would have it Mr. Minoru’s personal phone rings.

He’s quick in his apologies as he fishes it out of his pocket. Passing a smile to Geto as he quickly bows and makes the few long strides it takes to step out of the door and into the hallway, and a few short snaps in your direction as he points you to the concessionaires reserved for his clients near the door.

You’re practiced as you dip for the little fridge on your left, carefully sliding out a glassed bottle of water from the door and a plastic bag of sliced apples.

“Would you like a snack while you wait, Geto-san?”

He ignores you.

Through a quietly exasperated sigh does he slide his phone out of his hakama and pointedly decide not to acknowledge your awkward stance at the far end of the room. — You know he ignores you because the silence that otherwise permeates the spaciousness of your boss's suite is momentarily disrupted by the sound of your voice bouncing off the walls; followed again by that frigid silence.

This is the guy you’re trying to help.

Even so, your embarrassment is brushed aside in favor of making your way to the small coffee table between him and the other leather seat parallel to his. Thin pencil skirt riding a little as you take wide steps to the little spot that separates him from the empty seat - and you from the thin sliver of carpet standing between he and the now quivering mass.

You bend to place the treats gingerly beside him.

And when you rise you reach for it.

There are practiced fingers circling around your wrist before you can even touch it.

Your fear is potent enough to turn its broken hums into racking sobs as you freeze in his sudden grip. Firmly clasped onto you as he raises your arm over your head and forces you to jolt back with a stuttered breath. Faint greyed markings on the palm of your hand fade but they’re caught under his watchful eye, and through your shock you watch his expression switch.

From confusion, to intrigue, to pure excitement.

Your shock teeters on horror as his pupils dilate. “Now, just what were those pretty fingers planning on doing?”

He seems to revel at the sheer bewilderment that colors in your pretty face from where you nervously stare up at him. Doe eyes lit up by headlights, and the radiative heat of suddenly being this close to his predatory gaze. You stammer. “Wh-? Y-You know it’s-“

“Brought it with me, didn’t I?” He speaks lowly as he circles his thumb over your wrist. “Can’t say I don’t appreciate your concern though, sweetheart.”

You shrink. The absurdity of intentionally carrying a burden like this is as mind boggling as it is chilling. Dread inducing, even. With the kind of bad juju that thing emits there’s no other reason to purposefully let it fester beside you than for motives deeply depraved. Deeply disturbed. The way the air around him murkens and electrifies, and a glint in his eye that makes you feel like prey. — He’s looking at you like you’re dinner right now. And something about that feels trillions of times more frightening than any typical rubbernecking.

After being treated like a ghost by this man this whole time. Now he’s looking at you like you’re a slab of meat spread out for him. Succulent and tenderized, pliant under his fingers. Your soft eyes are rigid with fear as his other hand reaches for you blithely, larger fingers dipping in your loose hair and scooping it gently forward. You glance at it from the corner of your eye.

Smoke curls around his palm.

You suppress with a quiet intake of breath.

Geto-san’s cheeks pinken as he gleefully smiles, emboldened by a genuine tinge of ardor. You do your best not to flinch but it’s futile, his chilled fingers consolingly caress your face as he tuts; and gazes at you like he’s committing you to memory.

“Be patient for me, yeah? I’ll be done in a minute.”

You can’t even begin to guess what that means.

But before you can inquire he’s shushing you with a finger up to his lips. Playfully shooing you away as Mr. Minoru’s footsteps patter closer, and you clumsily re-fit yourself into your professional mask.

“Sorry ‘bout that, pal. Forgot about another meeting I was supposed to attend a little earlier,” He pockets his phone. “No one’s fault.”

He leans against the cliff of his desk where Geto-san’s planted himself again. Minoru glances at the unopened bag of apple slices. “Ah, _____, baby. You were supposed to hand him the good stuff.”

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

“No worries.” Geto laughs airily. “How could anything look nearly as appetizing when you’ve got an assistant like that walking around?”

Your ears burn as Mr. Minoru snorts in kind. “Yeah, fair enough,”

He rolls up his sleeves. “A’right, princess. How bout you hop on over to my lounge and break open the good brandy for my guest and I. Bring us the crystal set. Can you do that?”

—-

The decanter in your hand falls with a dull thump.

There’s no… logical explanation for what you’re looking at right now — Who you’re looking at right now. In any other circumstance deep purples would be expected. Blotched boysenberries and flossy reds, dotted with strained blues. You’d expect tearing - bleeding, audible ginger snaps of tendons and extended bone. A scream even, no matter how silent; all are logically expected. Death is logically expected.

But seeing your boss stretched out like leather, not a full five minutes after leaving him alone with this man, is not.

Your eyes frantically skirt over your boss's heaving corpse from your exposed position at his closing entrance. Watching in repulsed terror as his skin tears and bruises, familiar prayer beads falling out of his flesh like stuffing. - His eyes are rolled agonizingly into the back of his head, mouth opened in a scream. His blood sizzles against the maple of his desk and you can do little but stare in horror.

You flinch as the mainline on his desk starts to go off but you’re no sooner cringing at the way his arm breaks just to reach for it. Bloody fingers pushing the receiver, and cheeks tearing just to respond.

His unchanged voice somehow makes it all the more horrifying. “Hi, Souza. Thanks for getting back to me,”

“Yeah, do me a favor,” You back into the door. “Route about ten million to Geto-san’s organization under investment. And be a dear and sign the invoice for me, would ya?”

You’re gonna be sick.

“So, you’re out of a job now, huh?” You nearly yelp.

Geto-san’s standing just over you. “I’ve got a pretty similar position opened up,” He says casually. “‘Wanna work for me?”

You can barely push out a word. Which, kind man that he is, helps you out by deciding for you. “Ah, Great! I can break you in on Sunday. Here’s my card.”

He smiles kindly as you hesitantly pluck the laminated card from his fingers. Looking at you under mirthful eyes that chill more than they comfort.

“If you’re worried about pay, I can give you double of whatever that monkey gave you. Maybe a little extra if you’re as good as he says you are.”

But before you can recoil at the thought of being stuck under the same kind of boss, with the extra caveat of being a psychopath; he adds with a hint of challenge. “That is, if you can get rid of our friend for us.”

You follow his glance to the creature wearing your boss like a hand puppet.

Do you even have a choice?

Geto-san watches with a keen eye as you warily approach the blinking, bleeding corpse behind your late boss’s desk. Heels clicking slowly against his wooden floors, skin prickling at the thought of even getting close to this thing let alone touch it. There’s a smell that you notice as you move closer. A rotten, discrepant smell that pushes as much as it pulls. Aging, airless skin, barreling toward cell death; only marginally slowed by the alkaline smell of embalming fluid. Too old. Too sour.

But there’s something about it that almost — Hypnotizes. Evokes a kind of nostalgia that almost completely disarms you. Church pews and goatskin, leather hardbacks under frilly gloves; and those damn prayer beads. You can almost hear your grandmother’s voice. The minty sweet taste of stale candies tinted by the perfume in her purse. ~ Watching worship but not understanding it. A contact high of conviction. Your boss’s blood spills and it means something sacred, something reverent. And the closer you get, the more that sacrifice feels for the better.

You flicker a glance in Geto-san’s direction. This guy had this shit on standby?

It’s clammy when your fingers finally graze its skin. Sweaty and twitching, like every touch is a pinched nerve; like every stroke stimulates. There’s movement under the first layer, a hissing under the second. It’s mania seeps off of it in droves and the more you linger on it, the more your stomach twists.

You draw back your hand and rub over the difference in texture.

The room is temporarily endowed with smoke at the snap of your fingers.

They’re both gone when the vapor quickly dissipates, blood formerly staining expensive maple now replaced with its originally polished shine. As well as his chair, his area rug, and any other evidence that could connote what truly horrific fate the man in question had suffered in this very room.

Which is enough to send Geto-san into an ecstatic flurry of applause. “H-Holy shit. Where have you been all my life?”

He’s more focused on the way the weight in your lips shift rather than that being because of a frown. Regardless, you’re still a picture despite it. “You’re gonna fit nicely. — My address is on the card. Come by nine? I’ll have breakfast ready by then.”

He turns with a relaxed lilt toward the exit. “You and I are gonna have a lot of fun.”

The door clicks as the lock disengages.

“Don’t make me come looking for you.”

reblogs are appreciated <3

[needforspeed161]

Hey Admiral

My friend and I were talking about a scenario like this and I decided to write a little something for it. Since Cyclone looks up to Ice so much this would be hilarious to see play out 😂

CYCLONE DOESNT REALIZE ICE AND MAV ARE MARRIED.

Cyclone had it up to HERE with Maverick, constantly correcting him and becoming quite irritable with his “teaching methods” as he called them.

Why on earth a man as revered as the legendary Iceman would request a man as reckless and untamed as Maverick to teach the top pilots in the world at TOP GUN OF ALL PLACES! For what he is sure would be one of the most dangerous, high enemy contact level mission any of these pilots would ever experience in their lives was beyond him.

“Admiral” Ice spoke, taking a seat across from him, Beau stood at attention as the COMPACFLT seated himself before him.

“Evening sir” he spoke, militant as ever.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure” Ice waved a waitress over, grabbing a glass of his classic vodka on the rocks as Cyclone opted for a brandy.

“About Maverick…”

The warm chuckle that spread throughout the blonde, now graying, Admirals chest stopped the three star in his tracks.

“My apologies sir, I wasn’t intending to be comical”

“No Beau it’s not that” Ice took a gentle sip from his drink, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s just that if I had a dollar for everytime one of these dinners or meetings began with ‘so about Maverick’ I could have retired 10 years ago and have two Mercedes in my driveway”

Beau looked at his hands momentarily, unsure of what to say. Soon Tom continued.

“Anyways, I digress, what did he do this time”

Ices softer stare met his colleagues as he took another drink, before looking down at the menu on the soft white table cloth.

“His training methods for the Dagger squadron are….interesting to say the least, unorthodox is the better term.”

“Oh? Do tell”

“For instance, they were supposed to be practicing formations for the bombing run yesterday and I found them playing on the beach like children”

“Hm” Ice grunted softly, paying attention as the waitress came by again, interrupting them.

“Good evening sir” she spoke with a small smile at Tom. “Your usual sir?” Tom nodded

“Thank you Katherine, Beau? Care to order?”

Cyclone didn’t think to hard as to why Ice knew this woman, and frequented this place often enough to have established a ‘usual’. Ice was the COMPACFLT, he probably enjoyed some nicer expensive dining from time to time.

“No green eyes tonight?” She asked, and Tom shook his head. “No my dear, all buisness tonight”

She frowned slightly and put her hands on her hips. “Well darn, please tell him I said hello, I’ll go put your order in gentlemen.”

“I definitely will, Thank you my dear” Ice waved as she disappeared, rounding the corner.

Cyclone decided not to comment, first of all he and Ice were close but not so close as to ask questions about his love life. Let alone the fact that it was apparently another gentleman he often frequented this place with. Who was he to judge, since the DADT repeal and Ice becoming one of the most powerful men in the military, no one could say shit even if they had a mouthful.

“Apologies for the interruption, as you were saying?”

Beau cleared his throat. “Yes, sir, he completely ignored my hard deck perameters and is running these pilots through ridiculous exercises, we have less than a week to have them mission ready…”

Their conversation went on for a couple more hours as they ate, and as they both stood to leave Ices hand found Cyclones shoulder.

“I know Captain Mitchell can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but he’s a brilliant pilot, best the Navy has to offer, I’ve flown with him for many years, and he’s done many things I may not have understood, but he was always reliable, always had his head in the game and always made sure everyone, including me, made it back home safe. Be patient with him Admiral, give him a shot”

Cyclone huffed out in annoyance slightly, but let his shoulders fall. “Yes sir, I’ll do my best”

“Thanks Beau” Tom spoke, dropping the formalities. “And thank you for the company, but I’m a little past curfew and need to get home” Ice winked, Bidding him goodbye and getting in his car to head home.

—————————————————————————

The next day seemed even worse, Admiral Simpson was being driven up a wall, two seconds away from punching the brunette square in the face. If not for Ices encouragement he probably would have by now.

That evening he returned to the ready room to see, SHOCKER! EVERYONE WAS GONE!

Anger rose in his throat, he knew exactly where he was going.

Throwing his truck in park in perhaps the most aggressive way he could, the man, still clad in his khakis and medals, stormed in through the swinging saloon doors of the Hard deck, seeing all of his pilots and one infuriating Pete Mitchell drinking beers and playing rounds of pool.

Laughing, smiling and joking together, if he weren’t so angry he would have liked to admit that it even looked….fun.

“CAPTAIN MITCHELL!” He shouted. As if on cue the music came to a winding stop and all heads turned to look at him.

Pete not looking worried in the slightest.

“FRONT AND CENTER! NOW!”

Handing off his beer to Bradley with a nod, sharing a quiet word with him that couldn’t be made out clearly. He walked towards the angry, taller brunette. As the rest of the gang tentatively went back to playing pool, quietly, as if walking on eggshells.

“Admiral Simpson, sir” Maverick spoke. Smug grin on his face long gone and replaced with a tight line drawn between his lips.

“What in the hell is this?! We have a mission less

Than TWO WEEKS out that requires absolute focus! And before you try and brush this off as one of your bullshit ‘team building exercises’ just know I’m going to look forward to reporting this directly to admiral Kazansky! And-“

“Reporting what exactly to Admiral Kazansky?” A voice spoke, interrupting his statement, as the taller, angrier man turned to see the familiar face returning with two drinks in his hand.

Immediately straightening his posture and clearing his throat. He took in a very casually dressed Tom Kazansky.

“A-Admiral sir!”

“At ease Admiral, so what did Maverick do this time”

His eyes followed the movements of the slightly taller man, coming up to stand beside Pete, handing him a beer.

As Cyclone began to go into what he saw.

“Is that so Mitchell? Little old you did all that?” Ice threw his arm around Mavericks shoulder. Seeing the smug smile return to his lips.

“I can neither confirm or deny that statement” Maverick chuckled.

“My apologies on behalf of my husband Admiral, it seems he wasn’t aware of todays training layout”

Cyclones jaw may as well have been on the floor, throat tightening at a loss of words.

“H-husband sir?”

“Ah!” Ice almost looked surprised.

“How rude of me Admiral, I’d like to formally introduce you to my husband, Pete Mitchell-Kazansky, though for work purposes everyone still knows him by Mitchell.”

Just at this time Bradley walked up behind them.

“Hey dad, pops” he squeezed both of their shoulders and looked at Admiral Simpson. “Admiral”

“Lieutenant” he scoffed in return. Still attempting to process all of this new information.

“Wait so, at the restaurant, the waitress, green eyes is-“

“The one and only” maverick smirked, leaning up to give his husband a kiss on the cheek.

“Now Admiral, if you don’t mind we’d like to get back to our game, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.” Ice invited, gesturing his head towards the rest of the squad.

Cyclones mouth open and closed again. Unsure of what to do next.

“Cmon Sir, first rounds on me, loosen up a little” Bradley smiled, eyes bright and hopeful. As Cyclone turned to the rest of the team, smiling at him as well.

“I guess one drink couldn’t hurt….but I’m kicking your ass at a game of pool first Bradshaw”

As the two men walked back towards the pool tables, newly acquired beers in hand and jokes being flung back and fourth. Maverick pulled ice against his side by his waist. Smiling up at him with big green eyes, clinking his beer against the taller man’s glass.

“This is going to be fun” he smiled.

“Couldn’t agree more darling”

[radiance1]

Multiple businesses have suddenly been handed over to one man under the name of Masters. Multiple businesses who have some type of corruption one way or another.

The Wayne's wouldn't have even noticed, really, if the same wasn't happening in Gotham city.

It was alarming, really. Whoever Masters was he new how to pick his targets, businesses which are either small enough to go ignored, about to go bankrupt, or had rumors (which were true) about dabbling in crime.

All the businesses he took seemingly flourished under his hands, with not even a single corner being dipped in crime. Whoever Masters was, he was undoubtably a successful businessman, he managed to built an empire that was soon capable of rivaling both Lexcorp Wayne Foundation in a few years, and he was an incredibly elusive man himself.

No one knew what he looked like, nor his first name.

Only his last, Masters.

On a different note, there was another thing Tim was looking into. A new restaurant/ice cream parlor which opened up recently, it just opened up out of the blue, owned by a family that just appeared in Gotham one day.

From what he checked, there wasn't any records about any of them anywhere Tim could find, like literally nothing. Almost like they didn't exist prior to the day they opened.

There was only three people who owned the store. Vlad- no last name- the cook and owner, Danny- again, no last name- the cashier and Jasmine- once again, no last name- the waitress.

He had a suspicion- no he was very sure that Danny was a meta, one who had power over ice. They never ran out of ice, the space behind his counter was always cold (Well he did man the ice cream parlor and the drinks, but still), he quite literally watched the guy freeze someone's coffee when they tried to complain it was too hot and the most damming thing.

Their ice cream machine was never, not even once, broken.

Vlad was most definitely a fire meta, the temperature always seemed to rise whenever he was in the room, and his kitchen was a goddamn furnace, no one who didn't have at least some kind of fire resistance would be able to go in there with an apron and stay there for hours on end.

He was also very defensive over his kitchen for some reason, Tim thought it was because of the insane heat which might be part of the reason, but even to his own workers he doesn't allow them inside. Tim managed to overhear his reason as to why though.

"No offense, and in the most respectful way I can put this. But you two just throw food in the oven and hope it doesn't gain sentience."

Tim thinks he probably didn't mean that literally.

Jasmine couldn't be flagged as a meta, but he does think there's something about her. Probably has a pretty solid foundation in martial arts, or ballet, because her balance is impeccable. He quite literally watched her dance her over to different tables with multiple plates on her body.

Tim didn't think there was any type of connection between the Masters takeover and the restaurant, and technically he should be alerting Bruce to the two new metas in Gotham but.

They have a coffee to die for.

No, he should probably be telling Bruce, or at least another one of the family...

Maybe after he stops by and grabs himself a coffee, oh and most definitely one of their ice creams too.